Meus Templum
by Rookatthedoor
Summary: Set following 'Hearts of Fire" Henry seeks sanctuary. *My Sanctuary... This is my first fiction...Yikes!
1. Chapter 1

In the early evening, the streets had been slick and lit by reflections of the lights. Now, in the hour before dawn, the streets were deserted, their surface dark and opaque, rimmed with frost and the frozen rumpled remnants of grey slush that had been sprayed outwards by the passage of the cars.

An impassive sentinel moon slipped chill to the end of her night's journey, defining the bare tree branches in silver and black shadow with her retreat.

Gracious older homes, windows dark with wooden railings and porch floors carpeted plush by mounting fragile crystals of frost, pressed close to the street. All were grand old ladies, dark and tightly cloaked against the night.

Betty Sagara pulled her robe more tightly around her thin shoulders. Briskly rubbing her arms she admonished herself, "Betty, you are as foolish as an inexperienced girl, waxing poetic about a cold Ontario night."

Turning away from the window, she sat back in the dark room in an older wing back chair, next to the cast iron fireplace grate. Tendrils of warmth caressed the calves of her legs at the hem of her robe. The fire slumbered, a glowing bed of coals that was ashed over in grey, like the heat of life, banked soft and steady.

The nap of the burgundy velvet on the chair arms under her hands faded from soft plush to the bare weave of the backing, her fingers tracing the shapes worn by years of hands resting in this position. James' hands had rested there, her James. Her heart contracted at the reminder of his loss, she sighed softly at the well remembered pain.

Pain, once cutting, a shard of her broken joy, now had the rounded edges of milky, stream tumbled glass. The passage of the years had allowed her to approach her pain without being cut to the quick. Her thoughts of James were sweet now as time allowed her the comfort of remembrance, of laughter and love.

Her mind called up an image of his smiling face, his eye's alight with laughter. Then another of his ardent face above as his eyes searched hers. She felt again the weight of his body and in memory she heard his ragged whisper, "My love."

She shifted back, aligning her body to the enfolding chair and felt herself sink into a familiar position, one held in memory by the chair's very contours.

James had sat, just so, for hundreds of evenings. She pushed her palms forward along the worn arms and grasped their thread bare ends. Warmth registered in her palms as though she clasped his hands and shining moisture filmed her eyes.

She tilted her head to the side and a tender smile curved her lips, she knew that James waited just beyond the veil. She felt his presence, hovering. She sensed his love and approval wrapped close around her. He waited patiently and vigilantly. He waited for her.

Her remaining friends, as so many were already gone on ahead, indulged her when she spoke of this knowledge. They smiled knowing smiles and she knew that among themselves, they thought her career in occult studies had gotten the better of her. James was long dead, it would have been better for her to have moved on years ago. She smiled ruefully at their short sighted measure of her life.

She knew her colleagues respected her and respected her hard earned expertise; they valued her skills as an educator and they listened raptly to her opinions in their academic discussions. They found in her a resource rich in knowledge and legend. Unknowingly they sought out her ability to perceive pattern in the web of life around her, pattern flowing out forward and backwards from the present. They knew that if you didn't know where else to look, you could always ask Professor Sagara, and she could always point you towards the next step.

But the knowledge of the close proximity of the spirit realm Betty protected. She kept that knowledge safe from her academic colleagues, refusing them access to this secret solace.

Her students, the promising few, were old souls looking out of inexperienced young eyes, or young souls, pure and untrammeled, stretching towards her, drawn by their instinctive attraction to her knowledge.

She knew there would eventually be one or more to whom she would pass this trust before she joined her love. But she could not join him yet. No, not yet. There was still time to be endured.

She shook herself free of her reverie, back to the present moment.

"Betty really," she chided herself "enough!"

She reached across to the side table and, removing the cozy, poured herself another cup of tea. The steam swirled in spirals up off the surface of the hot liquid. Holding the fragile porcelain cup and saucer carefully in one hand she scooted backwards into the warmth of the chair. Drawing her legs up beneath her she composed herself to wait; she knew that it wouldn't be long.

She felt slowly along the tenuous connection of their bond. Henry was there, holding tightly to their link, drawing on her. Along the length of that ribbon she breathed; "Come to me."

He had been shut away from her completely, for the days that he had been missing. Following a flare of intense pain and despair their bond had been broken, gone like the light when a candle is extinguished.

She knew why that was, now. But then, the lack of their connection had been terrifying.

_Where are you, Henry?_

Then, she had received that chilling visit from a most promising young woman. She'd been dark haired and dark eyed, frantic with worry and babbling.

***

_The girl had rushed in while Betty had been preoccupied with the loss of their bond, and was readying herself to leave her office for the evening. Suddenly, Betty had been seized by a vision. _

_She recognized Coreen as a warp thread in the pattern, as was she. Each of them, a long series of lives running from past to future, upon whose rise and fall of a section of the pattern was developed. Currently, they ran in a parallel course, close to each other on the weave. Betty was aware of all of this in that instant of clear sight._

_The girl had been pouring out her story at a tremendous speed and it was rolling past Betty's ears until a single name jumped out…Henry… and she felt hollow panic at her lost bond._

"_Slow down" Betty commanded, "What has this got to do with Henry?"_

_She felt the desperation rolling off the girl, felt her tethered ancient soul sending out a nearly audible entreaty for aid, and the girl herself with no idea of how or why her spirit was reaching out. Help me… help me to help him._

_As the jumbled story emerged Betty reached out again blindly for that silvery thread of connection, and found nothing. Urgently she called to him, "where are you?" "Come to me." _

***

Now as the night faded, she knew why he had been closed to her, kept from her in a place where she could not come.

He had been taken from his course. His body had been tortured, starved and broken. His spirit ravaged by one who wore the cloth of the very faith that sustained him.

Her gorge rose at the thought and she tasted sour bile. Was there nothing more she could have done?

She sipped tea and with a trembling hand and lowered the cup and saucer to her lap.

She knew they had rescued him.

Coreen had received a call from Victoria Nelson to say that Henry was safe, but Betty had already felt it in the bond that had shimmered back into being, a tenuous thing, slender and with a firmly closed door at the end, but existent once again.

The girl was gone and Betty had returned to her own home to wait.

The last of the night was waning as she raised her eyes from the fire to an apparition.

He stood, half naked and shivering in the middle of her living room floor. Remnants of clothing hung in tatters from his neck and waist. A grotesque leather strap was locked around his left wrist with a short length of chain dangling. In the half light pale skin glowed unblemished but for dark smears at brow, shoulders and heart. A faint shudder racked his frame.

Chin to chest and eyes down cast, a sweep of dark lashes against a glistening cheek, his tousled curls tumbling the fragrance of the frost into the room.

His hands upturned in supplication, he swayed on his feet, and then, gathering his courage raised his face to hers.

Her eyes locked on the black and bottomless gaze of this young and ancient being.

Here was the broken thread, randomly woven in and out of the fabric without regard to the pattern.

The tip of his tongue extended to pass over his lower lip. The sharp points of his fangs drew his lip in slightly, calling to mind, of all things, the image of the nervous schoolboy biting his lip in advance of speaking.

She sensed James' hands on her shoulders, a slight squeeze for memory and for courage.

She watched those dark eyes refocus on a point somewhere behind her. His head cocked to one side, and he nodded once, slowly, as if in acknowledgment.

When his gaze returned to hers, something shifted in its bottomless depths and then rose swiftly like bubbles to the water's surface. He had not moved but the force of his need surged along the bond between them. For an instant she blanched, his need was so great that it abraded her very soul. She raised her chin slightly.

He trembled before her, fearful of rejection yet his need required he give voice to the plea.

"Sanctuary?"


	2. Chapter 2

In the still hour before dawn, the streets were deserted, frozen, and their margins were uneven with grey, rumpled remnants of slush.

In spite of his vaunted vampiric prowess, his feet skidded and slipped on the uneven surface and he cursed as he turned his ankle painfully. He winced as he set his weight on the foot and leaned for a moment against a brick fence, hissing on a quick intake of breath as his bare shoulder came in contact with the icy surface.

He felt the cold as an auxiliary thing. It was present but had no import.

The warmth of the blood on which he had recently feasted coursed through him; he was drunk with it. That blood of a being almost as ancient as he, himself.

He had exacted a modicum of revenge, taking back to himself the life force that Mendoza had stolen, both his own and that of those whom Mendoza had killed.

************************************************************

_He had dragged the stunned priest into the darkened recesses of the church sanctuary. He remembered the words that he had pushed past his aching fangs, "Good evening, Monsignor, time to repent." _

_He had prayed. A prayer learned at his nurse's knee, a grace to be said over food._

"_Bless us, Oh Lord, in these Thy gifts, of which we are about to receive, from Thy bounty, through Christ our Lord. Amen"_

_There in that holy place, under the shadowed vault, he had lifted Mendoza's struggling body, and as he caressed the whiskered skin of the priest's cheek with his sensitive lower lip, he had breathed his confession into Mendoza's ear, _

"_Forgive me Father for I have sinned…" Mendoza's eyes grew wide at the litany. _

_As his fangs found their purchase at last, and the blood flowed hot over his tongue, in place of the euphoria it was his nature to share with his prey, he had sent back to the flailing priest, all of the pain, torment and shame of the last days. He spared him nothing as he held him, writhing, in his embrace. _

_The silent walls leaned in close, dusted with the echoes of generations of prayers and the smooth faced, plaster saints stood sentinel in their niches in the dim light, shadowed eyes impassive. _

_As the life ebbed from Mendoza's eyes, the angel of death, so long denied, swept up on dark wings to receive him. Mendoza heard the echo of the vampire's voice whisper through his dwindling consciousness. "You could have had her for all eternity, but for your fanaticism"._

_Mendoza's anguished scream echoed among the arches. _

_The vampire heard only the sorrow of the angel's voice, "Release him to me."_

_His upper lip had lifted away from his embedded fangs, as he had growled out a muffled response. "Mine!" _

_The heart faltered in its desperate rhythm. _

"_No!" he howled his denial as he dragged his fangs free. He raised his eyes in challenge to the shadows above. _

_In the answering silence he felt Betty calling to him, felt her searching. He 'heard' her calling to him;_

"_Where are you?" "Come to me."_

_A shuddering sigh escaped him as the memory of her washed over his tortured soul. _

_As he lowered his eyes, he beheld the visage of the Sorrowing Virgin, her eyes brimming with tears._

_The heart was beating sluggishly now and Henry lowered the limp body to the ground as he fell to his knees before Her._

_With darkling eyes, he searched the Virgin's face and prayed aloud for the grace, both priest and vampire required. _

"_Sancta Maria, Mater Dei, ora pro nobis peccatoribus, nunc, et in hora mortis nostrae. Amen__."_

_The vampire lowered his fingers to the wound at Mendoza's throat and coating his fingertips with blood, raised his hand anointing himself._

_Touching them to his brow, he said, "In nomine Patrie." Moving his fingers to his chest over his heart, to his left shoulder, he said, _

"_Et File", and finally at the right, "Et Spiritu Sancti."_

_Then, he lifted the silver cross that hung around his neck to his lips, "Amen."_

_The heart contracted once more and then stilled. _

_Mendoza's features, now slack in death, blurred and then crumpled inward. Not the cleansing flame, but only a slow pathetic slide into dissolution. _

_Within moments, he was alone in the darkened chapel, kneeling in front of a statue of the Virgin. Levering himself to his feet, he stepped over the pile of dust that was Mendoza's earthly remains, crossed himself once more, and sought the living._

************************************************************

Pulling away from the support of the wall, he tried his weight on the ankle, a slight twinge but for the most part healed. His breath wreathed his head with steam, his body reveling in the borrowed warmth of blood, Mendoza's corrupted blood.

"_Come to me." _

Not far now. The stately homes which lined her street been built in a gentler era, and he could, if he searched his memory, bring forward into his mind's eye the nights he had spent in the company of those privileged few who had inhabited them long ago; the warmth, the lights, the witty conversation and sparkling crystal. Tonight, in the present, they were sliding in age towards decay.

His senses told him that within each of these grand old ladies with their subdivided flats humans slept.

His senses fixed on them, believing themselves secure and warm in their nests of blankets, their slowed heartbeats and sonorous breathing measured out the night which remained to him.

This night all the doors and windows were closed and shuttered against him.

Behind him the serene moon slipped coldly to the end of her night's journey, and he could feel the jealous sun anxiously swinging forward to reclaim the sky He had perhaps an hour before he must surrender.

He kept to the shadows for he knew that soon those same humans would be stirring from their slumbers.

He briefly closed his eyes and lifted his face, focusing on that trickle of connection that flowed out to him, a silvery stream that lead the way to its source. He was beginning to tire. He followed that widening stream.

**********************************************************

_He had tracked their hearts beating, back to them in the church basement, Vicki's strong and forceful slightly elevated in effort while Cellucci's was rapid as it pumped his depleted blood supply around that large body. She was half supporting and half carrying the taller man along the church hallway when he returned to them._

"_It's almost dawn."_

_The stink of their fear assailed him; their auras had coalesced to a heavy haze around them. Vicki's was a dark and tarnished gold that pained his heart and Cellucci's was a dull bronze glowing red, brighter where he had marked him._

_Cellucci's pupils dilated and his pulse picked up in response to the vampire's visage, yet true to the bravado that Henry had come to expect, he croaked, "We're going to have to talk about your drinking problem." _

_Infuriatingly, the vampire found himself responding in kind. _

"_Clearly, I stopped too soon!" _

_He would have left them then, had not Vicki slipped out from under Cellucci's arm and propelled him into the vampire, who instinctively reached out to support him._

_Vicki muttered an incoherent something and retraced her steps leaving them to exit the church alone. _

_Cellucci tensed and then looped his arm around his shoulder. As he took the human's weight on himself, the blood scent swirled around him and the knowledge that his mark was already upon the man was intoxicating. He slowly swung his face inwards to Cellucci's chest, scenting, paused, and then swung it resolutely outwards as he straightened his back and dragged the mask forward. He supported Cellucci out the door of the church. Once he had deposited the detective in the car, and before he would need to again bear witness to Victoria's fear, Henry left them, casting aside his humanity in his retreat._

_The vampire turned for comfort to the crystalline beauty of the night, but the stars wheeling in the heavens seemed remote and did not stem the rising tide of grief and shame and anger. _

_He knew that he could not weather that tide alone and in desperation clutched the promise of that silver ribbon tightly to him, allowing nothing of what he was to traverse its length. Still, he clung to it as a lifeline._

***********************************************************

Closer he came and closer, the stream had now widened to a spreading pool of silvery light, emanating from her refuge and flowing eldritch down the walls and steps of her dwelling.

He stood outside her door, and he could sense her within, awake but inwardly focused, calm and still, waiting…waiting for him.

In his mind he heard again Mendoza's venomous words:

"_Behold the beast, now do you see?"_

He hesitated. Would she reject him, in his need, as had so many others?

He bent and trailed his fingers through the flowing silver light pooling around his feet. Clearly visible to him, it was insubstantial in the physical world and the passage of his fingertips made no remark in its placid shimmering surface.

She had called to him, "_Come to me._"

He wanted… he wanted with an ache that drove all else from his heart. He wanted…

Without conscious thought, between one instant and the next he stood before her. Here was the hope of his heart, a small aging woman, wrapped in a simple robe, her legs drawn up beneath her in a threadbare wingback chair. Her eyes downcast to the red gold of the fire banked beside her.

She was the font of that silver pool, the well spring from which it flowed outwards.

Please…my heart won't bear it if she refuses…

Spreading his hands in supplication he swayed on his feet then gathering his courage raised his face to hers.

Her eyes sought his, soft and dark, beckoning.

The heart within his breast quickened and cried out its longing… I am lost, alone… I want…

A ripple in the veil and a shadowed form moved behind her. Reflected, her light lit the solemn face of a man, his hands resting on her shoulders.

The vampire knew that face for he kept close the memories of all his dead. A compassionate smile touched the dead eyes. James had granted him this and he bowed his head, in acknowledgment.

As his gaze returned to hers, he felt something break suddenly inside him. He stood paralyzed as his need surged along the bond between them.

For an instant she blanched, and then stiffening, lifting her chin.

He trembled before her, and fearful of rejection he voiced his plea, his heart's desire in a single word. Would she be this thing to him?

"Sanctuary?"

Never lowering her eyes, she opened her arms wide in welcome, and named him.

"Vampire."


	3. Chapter 3

She watched his eyes close and then he was on his knees beside her. He rested his head on her lap as his arms encircled her waist. Shudders wracked his frame as he clung to her. She wrapped her arms around his trembling shoulders and dropped her chin to his tousled curls. She breathed in the scent of the night.

She rubbed soft circles over the tightly clenched muscles beneath his cold skin and she crooned over and over;

"Shhhh, hush, you're safe now. You're safe now."

When he finally raised his face to hers, there were the wet tracks of his tears on his cheeks and caught droplets glittered in the lashes of his brilliant blue eyes.

"Betty, I…" He halted.

She could feel his struggle thrumming along their bond. She sat back in the chair far enough to create a small distance between them yet close enough to allow him to hold her. She felt his arms tighten around her in reflex.

Looking down into his mask of humanity, she shook her head and she chided him gently.

"Not here. Not now. Don't show me that mask, it's not who I love and it's not you. Lay your mask aside you don't need it here."

His eyes darkened in response, deeper and deeper until they windowed the color of the night sky. The curve of his upper lip altered in its bow, though he did not display the fangs she knew resided beneath. He pressed his cheek to the hand she had raised to cup his jaw.

"Ah," she said smiling, "That's better."

Then wonderingly she whispered "You're so beautiful."

The tension left him in a rush and she enfolded him once more in her arms.

Rocking slightly side to side, she gentled him, "You're safe now and nothing will harm you here. You can lay down your grief for today."

When he had stilled in her arms, she waited a few moments.

Then in a more brisk tone said; "I knew you would come and I have prepared your safe room for you. Will you stay? It's almost dawn" and then with a, more urgent tone, she acknowledged his depth of his torment, "Tell me… you will stay."

He rose with a feline grace to his feet, his body physically whole and strong, his spirit bleeding and torn.

"Please" he nodded.

She led the way to the safe room that he had used upon occasion over the years, whenever their late night studies and conversations had left him in need of refuge. The windows were filled with plywood sheeting and black out curtains had been drawn over them. There were no satin sheets here, just a simple wooden bed, clad in soft worn cotton with a plump down filled duvet folded at the foot.

She turned on the bedside lamp. When she turned back to him he was seated on the edge of the bed, his palms upturned and black eyes staring straight and unblinking at the drawn curtains.

She seated herself beside him and lifted his left hand into her lap stroking the base of his thumb gently.

Finally he turned his face to hers.

"Can you break this lock?" she asked… touching the leather strap encircling his wrist. His dark gaze dropped slowly to his lap and then in a single swift movement, the lock lay broken on the floor.

He fumbled with the buckle, but she covered his fingers with her own.

"Let me."

Unbuckling the strap she dropped it to the floor. Then taking his hand in hers she massaged the flesh of his wrist tenderly erasing the impression of the restraint. She knelt to remove his boots.

He sat still under her ministrations, silent, and as she watched him she saw his eyelids fall, open and then slowly close again. She knew that the day was about to claim him.

"Lie down Henry, you need to rest."

Though still silent he obediently he stretched himself out on the bed.

She went to the foot of the bed and unfolded the duvet. As she turned to draw the cover over his body she looked once more into those distant dark eyes. Their lids swept closed. When she pulled the cover to his chin she saw his eyes fluttered open once more.

She had begun to turn away but turned back when she heard him draw a breath. She watched the focus of his eyes sharpened. She felt him struggling in the grip of the dawn.

"Stay with me," he whispered.

Leaning in she stroked the hair back from his brow, thumbing the rusty smudge at its center.

"I 'm here," she said," I'll watch over you".

His eyelids drifted closed once more, as the sun conquered the sky.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter four

Blessed…

He was at her feet and he felt her arms come round him sheltering. He was bathed in her silver light.

Warm and familiar the scent of comfort filled him. He clung to that comfort holding it to him.

She held him close to her heart with a tenderness that he thought gone from his experience. It poured over him.

Her tenderness had nothing to do with weakness. He could felt her iron will and fierce determination underlying. His heart swelled and his relief was overflowing. He could be safe from torment here.

Her warm living hands moved softly over his chilled flesh and her voice was a balm to his agony.

"Shhhh, hush, you're safe now, you're safe now."

He knew he was sobbing and felt his body shuddering as he tried vainly to contain the tormenting emotions churning through him.

"Shhhh, hush, you're safe now."

He was struggling to block the memories and images.

He saw again Mendoza's hand on the device buried in his heart. There had been such pain.

He heard the inquisitor's voice admonishing him:

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

That voice whirling in his thoughts…

"_The beast that corrupts your soul… "_

"_The beast that corrupts…" _

"_I have revealed his true nature". _

"_His true nature…"_

"_Behold the beast." _

Then he heard her whisper, "Shhhh, you're safe now."

Shamed and cloaked in his human guise he raised his face to hers. The evidence of his torment was wet on his cheeks.

"Betty, I…" he began.

She leaned away from him and withdrew slightly. She gazed down on him.

_No!_ He tightened his arms. _No, please!_

"Not here." She said "Not now."

Pain flared bright and hot in his chest.

"Don't show me that mask, it's not who I love and it's not you. Lay your mask aside you don't need it here." she declared.

The silvery radiance of her compassion engulfed him, as though when the clouds over the moon are swept aside.

He heard her spirit call to him. "Come to me."

His nature answered. He felt his eyes darkened and felt the slide of his fangs.

She raised a steady hand to his face and he rested the weight of his head against her palm as she cradled his jaw.

"Ah, that's better." and then she continued softly "You are so beautiful."

He scented her, finding tenderness, sadness and empathy. Though he quested, there was not a trace of the fear scent.

The tension left him in a rush and she enfolded him once more in her arms. Her heart beat beneath his cheek, steady and sure.

Yet her hearts beating could drown out the voice of the priest that clamored in his mind.

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

"_Your soul is black; the penance for your sins is death"_

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

A warning tendril of fear curled along his back as the sun trembled below the horizon.

_Do I owe a penance?_ He questioned himself. He questioned the voice that haunted him.

"_The penance is death."_

"_You'll break, you all break"_

"_The penance is death"_

Betty's whispered assurances filled his ears. "You're safe now and nothing will harm you here. You can lay down your grief for today."

The sun's warning was more insistent now. He felt it as an increasing heaviness that coiled along his limbs.

_I would need only to wait,_ he thought. _Could he not quiet Mendoza's voice_?

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

Betty's voice drew him to her.

"I knew you would come and I have prepared your safe room for you. Will you stay? It's almost dawn." Then as though she divined his thoughts she said more insistently, "Tell me you will stay."

He struggled to escape.

"… _and all the world wondered after the beast…"_

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

He rose to his feet, his spirit bleeding and his heart raw.

He surrendered to her will.

"Please."

He followed her to the room that he had used upon occasion over the years. His eyes travelled to the blackout curtains over the plywood filled windows. The familiar lassitude overcoming his will told him the sun was brightening the sky just beyond.

She turned on the bedside lamp though he had no need.

He dropped heavily to the edge of the bed and his eyes returned again to the curtains with a dread fascination.

The sun was so close.

Mendoza's voice urged,

"_Smite, the beast that corrupts your soul," _

He felt her seat herself beside him and she lifted one of his hands into her lap stroking the base of his thumb gently.

At length, he could turn away to look at her.

"Can you break this lock?" she asked… touching the leather strap encircling his wrist.

_How could he have forgotten it_? Suddenly he couldn't bear the touch of the leather against his flesh. With a sharp jerk he broke the lock and fumbled with the buckle.

She covered his hand with her own.

"Let me." She released him, her touch warm as she gently massaged the flesh of his wrist.

The sun edged over the horizon now, he could sense it. The sun was a thin flaming crescent from which the night was retreating.

She knelt to remove his boots and his eyes returned to the curtains.

He sat still under her care, deciding. _Yes…he wanted to stay with her._

She told him, "Lie down Henry, you need to rest." Obediently he stretched himself out on the bed.

His limbs settled to the mattress and he found he could no longer command them. He felt her draw the cover over his body.

_He wanted to stay with her_ and he forced his eyes open, drinking in the silver nimbus that surrounded her.

The day wrapped bands of iron around his chest. _He wanted to stay._

She began to turn away. His body had betrayed him and he could not follow. He struggled for breath. The retreating night was calling him on. He wanted to stay and ignoring all else he focused on her.

"S-stay with m-me," he whispered.

He felt her hand on his hair. He was bathed in a fountain of silvery light.

"I'm here," she said," I'll watch over you".

The night required his attendance and sharply commanded him now. He had no choice but to surrender. His eyes closed and a voice swirled out of the beckoning darkness…whispering.

"_Behold the beast…"_


	5. Chapter 5

Hell! … _Was that that the phone ringing at the crack of dawn …what is wrong with people?_

Vicki scrabbled in her bag for her keys as she pounded up the last two steps to the landing outside her office.

Damn it! Her keys slipped from her hand, further into the depths of her bag, the phone's muffled summons jangling through the door. Finally her fingers closed on the fob and she hauled the keys into the light.

The grayed edges of her vision swirled as she brought her eyes into focus at close range. She hurriedly sorted through the keys on the loop.

"Come on…come on" she muttered. She had it. For once, she got the key into the lock on the first try and as the bolt slid back she threw the door open.

She figured the phone was on the seventh ring as she reached for the receiver and that the machine should pick up just… about… now…

She whipped the receiver up to her ear. "Henry?" She asked breathlessly.

"Actually dear, this is Betty Sagara. I am sorry to call you so early but I thought you might not have retired yet or that if you had that I could leave you a message. "

"Doctor Sagara…is something wrong?" Vicki's brow furrowed and she pushed her glasses higher on to the bridge of her nose.

"Victoria, I just wanted to let you know that Henry is here with me. He's been through rather a lot and I really didn't want him to return to his place alone today." Betty confided.

_Rather of a lot_ Vicki thought to herself, _Geez, do ya think?_

"At any rate" Betty continued, "Henry was kind enough to indulge an old friend's concern and has agreed to stay with me for a few days. In fact he's already… asleep. I know that he wouldn't want you to be worried so I wanted call you and let you know he was safe."

"Is he… you know…alright?" Vicki asked hesitantly. She wasn't sure herself exactly what condition she considered to be alright.

"Physically he is, yes. I know you are well aware of the speed at which he can recover from physical harm; if certain of his, _a delicate pause_… requirements are met. However emotionally, spiritually...well I think he may need some time to recover from what he has just endured. That is why I am so relieved he has agreed to spend some time here."

Vicki's mind flew back to that darkened church basement. She remembered her own sense of helplessness and despair at Mendoza's hands. Could she even bear to contemplate what he had done to Henry?

Betty's voice brought her back to the moment.

"Well dear, I really must go…I have several other calls to make and I need to rearrange my schedule somewhat."

"Doctor Sagara … Are you still there?" Vicki called.

"Yes I am Victoria." Betty responded.

"Tell Henry…uhh… tell Henry that I… that I hope he's OK." Vicki choked out.

"I will, dear. Good bye"

Vicki held the receiver loosely, bouncing it lightly on her thigh where she leaned against her desk. A worried frown left a vertical line between her brows and she massaged the spot with the fingers of her right hand.

She toyed briefly with the thought of calling Coreen to let her know where Henry was, but didn't think that she could deal with another round of retelling the story to Coreen. The girl had interrogated her relentlessly for every detail of what had happened that evening. In the end she had eventually had to hang up on her. No she wasn't going down that road again until she had some sleep.

She felt so… she felt…well she wasn't sure what she felt. It was as though her whole reality had shifted and things just weren't what they seemed.

Her heart ached with the aftermath of guilt and fear. In a well rehearsed response to that fear, her stubborn anger sparked into a low flame.

She could control this situation. She had controlled the situation. She had done what she did when her partner was in trouble and she had rescued Henry.

At least, she thought that _thing_ she had glimpsed in the church's basement was still Henry.

Of its own volition, her hand went to her jacket pocket and she grasped the device within. The hinged points of the eight sided star protruded between her fingers and the golden face nestled against her palm.

Her mind replayed Henry's voice:

"_Forgive me, I can't stop myself." He had said._

Gone were the dazzling mischievous smile and the urbane courtly manner. Gone were the intense blue eyes, the strength and the cool self control that she so admired.

The Henry she knew had fled …leaving in his place a changeling, dark and feral. She saw the beast straining at the end of its tether.

****************************************************************

"_Forgive me, I can't stop myself." _

_As he had lunged at her, she had cut through the rope binding her to the chair, had pushed backward with all her strength. Then she had rolled up and out of the overturned chair in one smooth motion. As quick as thought she had the jagged broken chair leg in both hands and holding the makeshift stake aloft in readiness, she had both threatened and begged him in a single breath;_

"_Henry... Don't make me! "_

_All fangs and blood, the beast had not even paused, wind milling his arms in an attempt to reach her, chains rattling, then the loud crack, as they gave way. Her determination and courage dissolved and she cast aside the stake…she couldn't. She had turned to escape._

*****************************************************************

Vicki pushed the whirling emotions aside, before she could be sucked into the maelstrom. With all her rigid control, she shelved them. _Not now…_

Yet in a moment of bitter introspection she thought, _Henry had left her as surely as every other man in her life._

She heard again his tortured plea.

"_Forgive me, I can't stop myself." _

Well, there wasn't much she could do right now. Henry was "asleep" as Betty phrased it. Judging from the grey dawn brightening outside her blinds she knew he would be.

God knows she was tired. She felt filthy, both from where she had been and from what she had seen.

A hot shower sounded heavenly. She reached out to return the phone to its cradle and winced as she jarred the bandage across her left palm.

Suddenly she saw, Delphine, begging for her blood and then writhing as she hung exposed to a shaft of morning sunlight and the swift flames that had followed. She felt again the intense heat, and saw that pitiful mound of ash.

_No!_

Her heart lurched in denial.

_No! Not that, not for Henry, she assured herself._

_Henry was safe… he had gone to Betty_.

As soon as she has had a few hours sleep, she would make sure he was alright.

She dragged herself to the bathroom wanting nothing more than to cleanse herself and then to sleep.

There in her slumbers, amidst the tangled sheets, Mendoza's insidious voice lay waiting …

"_Henry" she gasped, "What has he done to you?"_

"_I have revealed his true nature, behold the beast, now do you see?" insisted Mendoza._

"_You of all people should know that no one is truly innocent," she felt the rasp of his whiskered cheek as he spoke in her ear._

_Henry had told her, "I'm not human Vicki."_

"_Now do you see?" Mendoza insisted._

"_And then I turned her, into a creature like me…" Henry breathed his confession._

"_Forgive me, I can't stop myself."_


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

She sat at her window fingered the folds of her night dress, gathering and then smoothing the white material over and over in a compulsive, nervous repetition. Her black hair was twisted back out of the way at her nape. The remnants of dark eyeliner dissolved by her slow tears had smudged the tender skin about her eyes, eyes that reflected the light of the sun's climb into the dawn sky.

A feeling of restlessness filled her…._there was someplace she needed to be…something she needed to do…_

Unable to be still for a moment more, she jumped to her feet, pacing the confines of her studio apartment, her bare feet crossing the chilled floor of the room, a turn in the tiny kitchen and then back around again, and again, the hem of the long white cotton nightdress brushing her ankles with each step.

Coming to an abrupt halt in front of her window, she crossed her arms over her chest, hugging herself.

She looked down to the early morning street, as a taxi, available lights off, traversed the deserted, grey expanse. The blank windows of the building across for her were tinted rosy; each mirrored the sun's fiery ascent. It appeared both a thing of ravishing beauty and a thing of horrific danger.

_He had to be safe, she was sure that he would have sought shelter._

_He's been taking care of himself for almost 500 years right?_

_He had to be safe._

Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was something she needed to be doing. It was like she had forgotten to do something dreadfully important, and she knew she had forgotten, yet she couldn't, for the life of her divine what it was. The only thing she was sure of was that it had something to do with Henry.

_Right! And hadn't she helped him enough already_.

_Hadn't she given Mike all the information he needed to find Henry and hurt him…to hand him over to some lunatic inquisitor from the past? Henry surely didn't need any more of her 'help'._

_How could Mike have done that to him?_

_He could have died, would have died, and it would have been all her fault._ Her breath hitched in her throat and fresh tears trickled from the corners of her eyes.

Shivering she thought of the conversation she had with Vicki. Yes… they had found Henry; yes… they had freed him…. Yes, he had been tortured…. Yes, he had been starved… Yes, yes, yes to each increasingly dark inquiry. She had pressed Vicky for details…where had he been, how had she found him, had Mike helped? She had pressed….on and on …until the whole ugly story had emerged.

She didn't want to know and yet she had to know. She had to know how close she had come to losing Henry. How close she had come to losing Vicky. She had become physically ill at the tale of Delphine's immolation. She heard again the sick horror in Vicki's voice as she reported it all. But she had to know.

_She had to know the depth of her responsibility_.

_And it was all her fault. She should have been smarter. If she had just been smarter she could have prevented it._

She knew that Mike was jealous of the relationship between Henry and had told her often, that "Fang boy" was a danger to Vicki. That sooner or later Henry would hurt Vicki, or worse. God only knew what a creature like that might do. He was sure that the vampire would turn on them. He couldn't be trusted.

Paradoxically, it was Mike himself who couldn't be trusted. He had proved it when he had used that accursed device on Henry.

All he had needed to know was where they were.

Information that she had stupidly provided… _It was all her fault._ The thought cycle began again. _It was all her fault…_

She twisted her hands together, _what could she do_?

Her phone cut the stillness with a jarring ring, startling her. She lifted the receiver to her ear…

"Hello"

"Coreen, this is Betty Sagara, I know that you would be worrying and I just wanted to give you a quick call."

"Doctor Sagara" Coreen said, immediately responding to the calm voice on the other end of the line.

"I just wanted you to know, Coreen that Henry is here with me. He is safe and … asleep."

Now Correen's tears began to flow in earnest, and she wiped at her cheeks with her palm, her words tumbling out with her tears.

"Oh, thank you, thank you for calling me" she sobbed…"Please tell him, how sorry I am. It's all my fault… I never should have told Mike where they were…he could have died and it would have been all my fault. He must hate me… he probably never wants to see me again… and that would be alright… I wouldn't blame him…I just wanted to know that he was safe…"

"Coreen, calm down," Betty interrupted her tirade before it could escalate further."Henry won't blame you for anything…it was your hard work and persistence that allowed for his release… if anything I am sure he will be most grateful. What I do know is that Henry will most assuredly want to see you and he will have need of your friendship. I hope that you are able to be there for him. Trust me I know this is true."

"Do you really think so? You know I think you could right. Thank you for calling me Doctor Sagara, I really needed to know that Henry was safe, and I really want to help him and not just because I feel responsible for what Mike did but…"

"I know child. We'll talk again soon. Good bye Coreen"

"Ok, thank you so much Doctor Sagara…bye" Correen's answered, to the broken connection.

_Safe…safe…he's going to need me… safe… he's going to need me_; the thoughts whirled in her head. With the effervescence of youth, she shook off the bitter web of recrimination she had been weaving.

_I can help, I know I can_, she paused for a moment, inspiration lighting her face… _there is something that I can do right now_.

Instead of climbing into bed, she turned to her closet and began to dress….


	7. Chapter 7

The darkness coalesced driving back the day, descending. Deeper shades of indigo stained the violet evening. The weight of the night forced the sun to the horizon and as her last molten arch slipped from view the days blush faded from the sky.

Memory returned first while his body lay as yet unresponsive to his command, returning memories of panic and pain. For a few moments he hung suspended between past and present.

Instinct triumphed as he sprang upright to a defensive posture with his first indrawn breath.

And borne on that breath…was her scent, he straightened, as his surroundings registered and he heard the steady thump of her heartbeat from….her study?

***

Betty was reading at her desk, inside the circle of yellow light cast by a lamp resting on the polished surface…her eyes periodically glancing outside as the purple twilight deepened to blue black. Shadows hugged the corners of the room. The veil stirred and she sensed James' presence and concern.

She was becoming hungry and it was distracting her from her research.

In her memory she heard James's voice… _"It is time for you to take a break 'Etty… its past tea time, my love."_ He would have interrupted her bearing a tray from the kitchen. They would have sat at the low table, talking easily of this and that, of her research, of his latest acquisition…

She sat upright and stretched, arms above her head and then out to the sides easing the tightness in her shoulders.

Henry should be waking soon…

***

He leaned quietly in the doorway regarding her. She had aged as the years went round and yet as he had often observed, it was as though her spirit had intensified. She glowed always now, lit in his sight by an internal flame. Crossing his arms over his bare chest, he felt his heart fill with a tender love for her as she read in the lamplight.

***

There came a stirring in the shadows, and he discerned James's insubstantial form.

Her stomach rumbled faintly and she smiled ruefully. She rested her chin in her palm her elbow propped on the desk top, her eyes on the distant past. The spirit hovered urging.

Then she sat upright, stretching the muscles of her back.

She felt cool hands on her shoulders and thumbs began to firmly circle on either side of her spine.

Blissfully she arched her back into the pressure. "Ohhhh! …that's good, Henry".

"Have you been awake long?" She asked groaning softly as he hit a particularly tense muscle.

"Just a few minutes" he replied, as he eased away a knot under his thumbs.

"I came looking for you, because I could hear your stomach growling from my room" he said in mock concern.

"Don't be cheeky" she countered.

She turned to look at him over her shoulder, and was greeted by dark eyes turned up at the corners and a slightly crooked, albeit pointedly toothy grin.

"I've left you towels and necessities in the upstairs bath…your clothes are all in the bureau where you left them. I'm sure that you'll want to shower and change." She said with an abstract wave in the appropriate direction.

"Is it really that bad?" he asked quirking an eyebrow.

"Bad enough!" she smiled

"Are you hungry?" she asked, sobering.

He shook his head no. "Apparently not as hungry as you are." he replied with a grin.

"Then go and get cleaned up…before you put me off my dinner." she said as she rose from the chair.

He pulled her into a quick embrace, his face nestled in the crook of her neck.

"Thank you Betty, "he whispered low, tears shining in his dark eyes.

She patted his back, once, twice. She sighed and then said,

"Off you go then… I'm going to get myself something to eat."

He padded back to his room and retrieved the clothes he kept there from the bureau drawer. Suddenly his only desire was to feel the hot water pouring over him, erasing the lingering scents clinging to his body, of Mendoza and of his own fear and despair, sluicing away any remaining physical evidence of his ordeal.

As he entered the bath, he flicked on the light and caught sight of himself in the mirror over the sink.

Dark eyed and solemn, the vampire stared back at him. Flaking brown smudges marked his pale skin.

He leaned forward to the mirror, resting his hands on the porcelain and heard again the voice that haunted him.

"_I have revealed his true nature, behold the beast, now do you see?"_

Obsidian eyes searched his reflection.

"Behold the beast…." His lips moved in the mirror as he uttered the words.

He hung his head and when he glanced up again James' sympathetic face floated behind his in the mirror. He felt the featherweight of an insubstantial hand on his shoulder. He closed his eyes briefly and when he opened them again… he was alone.

He could hear Betty downstairs moving around in her kitchen and the homely sound of a kettle beginning to whistle as it came to the boil.

He reached into the shower and turned on the water.

She had just finished her dinner and was pouring herself a glass of sherry when Henry reappeared in the kitchen doorway.

His hair hung in loose tendrils that dampened the shoulders of the soft jersey he wore. The faded jeans hugged his legs resting at the top of his bare feet. True to her stated preference, his black eyes perused the kitchen.

She lifted her glass, "Would you like some?"

He shook his head no. Then smiling inquired: "I don't suppose you have any tea?"

She laughed aloud at the reminder.


	8. Chapter 8

TORONTO September 1969

The summer had seemed endless in Toronto…long brooding days, oppressive to a population looking for release from the heat. Even in the tree lined streets of the older sections of town the air seemed still and heavy.

James Sagara, a trim man in his late twenties ran his fingers through his dark hair. The night had brought little relief from the stifling heat. His suit jacket was long discarded on the back seat of his car and his tie hung in a loose loop around his neck. He plucked at the damp fabric of his shirt where it stuck to his chest.

"Damn it Fitzroy! How do you manage to look so cool, calm and collected in this heat?" he complained to the pale, long haired young man sitting in his passenger seat.

"I simply think cooling thoughts, James. You should try it" he said his blue eyes crinkling at the corners and his mouth drawing up slightly. "Actually, I think I feel a rainstorm coming on."

"That would be a blessed relief… Betty's garden could use the water." James smiled as he thought fondly of his wife. He pictured her with her hair tousled as she bent in the back yard sunshine tending her caged tomato plants.

Henry smiled a flash of dazzling white in the dark car.

"You must introduce me to your wife at some point James; she must be a truly captivating woman to have you so enthralled."

"She's all that and more." James smiled.

"And ...this is the place," he said as he pulled to the curb, across the street from a small brick book shop. The store's tiny front window was crammed with piles of old volumes, haphazardly stacked.

Henry regarded the store skeptically, "I still can't believe that you found a signed copy of the original edition here. "

"I have my secret contacts" James said in a deep, theatrical voice.

"And your startling ability to find me rare books and objects attests to their expertise" Henry smiling replied.

Over the course of the transactions that James had done with Mr. Henry Fitzroy, he had grown used to the juxtaposition of the youth of the man with his refined speech pattern and penchant for fine articles and rare books.

Their usual arrangement was that James located the object or book, confirmed its authenticity and ascertained the purchase price.

On a prearranged evening, Fitzroy with an attaché in hand containing the appropriate funds would then accompany him to the seller. Inevitably, Fitzroy would wait in the car as his preference was to remain an anonymous collector. James would complete the transaction and retrieve the desired object or book. When the transaction was complete, Henry would pay him a generous finder's fee.

On occasion they would then retreat to a club for a drink in celebration of their acquisition.

Tonight it was a rare first edition that Henry sought and though James had argued that the asking price was unduly inflated, Henry had mildly acquiesced and the bargain had been struck.

As usual, it was a cash transaction and James felt the heft of the attaché as he walked towards the darkened storefront. Tonight the finder's fee would be in trade, for a volume that Henry had in his collection. James wanted it for Betty. He knew that she would find it invaluable for her graduate work. She would love it and he chuckled aloud in anticipation of her excitement.

Henry mused as he watched James cross the road and walk towards the storefront; _he liked the man as he seldom liked the people with whom he de_alt.

_What was it that made him feel that he could trust him?_

As a rule, he kept himself distant from casual acquaintance, it was too dangerous. The more people who knew him the harder it became to conceal his unchanging nature. And then the sooner he would need to move on to a new location.

Yet James had Henry violating his self imposed code.

_Perhaps it was his calm and accepting demeanor, or his wit or his truly astounding ability to ferret out the location of almost anything_. If Henry was honest with himself though, he knew the answer… James was a beacon. His aura blazed with the love he had for his wife. She was his world. As isolated and guarded as his existence was, Henry knew that he was attracted to their passion. He sought to warm himself in its reflected glow. In his own mind, he already regarded them as HIS and had extended his protection to them.

He could sense James excitement and he was well aware of the cause. He looked forward to hearing from James about his wife's reaction to the book. In fact, he found himself sharing in James' anticipation and he had not even yet met the woman.

The low rumble of distant thunder disturbed the hot air. Henry knew that the night would be cooled by the rain that he could scent coming. He shifted in his seat.

James was at the shop door knocking but the inside lights had not come on in response.

Henry stilled now, as he registered two heartbeats in addition to James'. Two hearts beating quickly and the pounding of running feet.

The approaching storm growled against a sky illuminated by distant lightning and was echoed by the growl rising in Henry' throat.

Two men were on either side of James now both with guns in hand. One grabbed at the attaché as James whirled to meet them. He hugged the case back to his chest. "No!"

Henry lunged from the car at James's strangled cry and was within a few feet of the group of humans when one of the men lifted his gun and fired….

The impact sent Henry around as the bullet tore through his upper chest just above his heart and exited below his shoulder blade. It was a shot that would have killed a human.

As it was Henry went down to one arm and then he braced him against the pavement and then rose upright.

Holy Christ! One of the men cried. He swung the gun away from James' face, fired wildly at the thing he saw coming for him.

The report of the gun was lost in the electric crackle of the lightning overhead.

The shot went wide of its intended mark but creased Henry across the throat.

Did you see it? Did you see it? The man gibbered, while his accomplice grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged him roughly away.

"Run, damn it, run…"

***

James stood aghast in the doorway with attaché still clutched to his chest. His eyes were wide and rimmed in white as he watched Fitzroy sink to his knees.

The lightning flashed again, sharply illuminating the flood of bright red staining the young man's chest.

Thunder rumbled ominously and the scent of ozone rose as the first heavy drops fell on the hot pavement. All was overlaid with the copper scent of blood.

***

Suddenly James cast aside the attaché and dropped to his knees beside Fitzroy who had rocked back until he was resting on his heels.

James had never seen so much blood.

Reason told him that Fitzroy should not even be alive let alone conscious yet the young man regarded him with cautious eyes. A low moan escaped Henry's tight pressed lips.

"You should be dead" James whispered at last and then gathering himself said louder "We need to get you to a hospital…"

"No, no hospital," Fitzroy ground out as his fingers closed on James' forearm.

His voice deepened resonating strangely, "No hospital, just take me home."

Any argument that James might have had to that idea faded away with the timbre of Fitzroy's voice.

He got an arm under Fitzroy and lifted him to his feet. He pulled his arm over his shoulder. He could feel the chill of Fitzroy's flesh through his shirt.

With the attaché in one hand and Henry leaning heavily on the other side, he shambled slowly towards his car.

With an electric crackle the sky lit again. James glimpsed the gunshot wound across Henry's throat. The blood still trickled over the gaping edge.

"Sweet Jesu, have mercy!" he exclaimed.

"Amen" was Fitzroy's whispered response.

James got Henry to the car somehow and laid him out on the back seat then climbed behind the wheel.

"Take me home." Henry's whisper floated from behind him.

Yes, thought James, yes, I'll take you home; Betty will know what to do.

Henry's head lolled to one side and though his cheek rested in a pool of his own blood, it was somehow too much work to move it. His body bounced slightly sending a shot of agony through his chest.

He opened his eyes and was looking at the back of a car seat… The car was moving….Good… James was following the compulsion and taking him home. Once he reached his sanctuary he would be safe. He could rest for the time necessary to recover.

He could still feel his lifeblood draining from his body but the pace had slowed to an oozing flow.

Given that he had fed earlier in the evening he should have healed relatively quickly from the chest wound…it was the second shot that had been more problematic. He knew it had torn the major artery and the resulting continuous blood loss had retarded his ability to heal.

He was weak and sick with the shock of major trauma. He knew he wasn't going to die but he was going to be damned uncomfortable for the next few hours or more. And he needed to feed… sooner rather than later. Moreover, his movements would have to be extremely limited until the artery had fully healed or he could risk tearing it again.

James' voice which he had been ignoring while performing his own internal investigation suddenly came into focus.

"Are you still alive back there Fitzroy?"

"Hang on, we're almost there"

"My God, Henry, say something…"

Henry was touched by the worry in the other man's voice. He was used to taking care of himself and he was surprised to find that he was comforted by James' concern. Too few people cared about his wellbeing beyond what they could get from him.

"I'm still alive," he gasped as the car splashed bouncing through a pothole "Just take me home, please."

The rain was beating an insistent tattoo on the car's roof and the wipers swept forward and back with a sound that reminded Henry of a fluttering heartbeat. The ceiling above him was washed by the headlights of cars and then faded to darkness again as they passed. Periodically there would be a bright flash of lightning paining Henry's eyes, followed by the drum roll of the thunder. He remembered once when he had been frightened by a sudden lightning storm as a child.

***

_His nurse had told him, not to fear, that the angels were having a festival day in heaven and were pushing the tables to the sides of the hall, to clear room for the dancing. _

_He could clearly remember her voice, so soft… In the nursery, she would let him fall asleep on her lap, contrary to his father, the king's, wishes. _

_She would stroke his hair as he laid his head on her breast. _

_He could remember the smell of her perfume and the steady beat of her heart_…

***

He felt his fangs begin to drop.

He grasp at the mask, he couldn't lose control now.

The car slowed suddenly which rolled Henry forward on the seat. He put out an arm to save himself from sliding on to the floor, hissing at the sharp agony.

"We're here at last" James said with relief.

Betty had been reading all evening in her study room…it somehow seemed too grand to call it a library, though James had vowed that some day it would be lined with shelves of wonderful books. Truthfully their fledgling collection was actually quite impressive, given James' talents. She never doubted his word.

She had been listening for James 'car in the drive for some time now, not exactly worried but anxious with the sudden downpour. The worst of the storm seemed to have passed overhead when she saw the sweep of headlights through the window and heard the crunch of gravel on the drive.

She rose to go to the door to unlatch it for him. She could hear James voice on the other side of the door, murmuring, and then a dreadful moan, then James again, "Sorry, sorry…I slipped"

What on earth? She opened the front door wide. "James' what is going on out…" the question died on her lips.

****

Henry's relief was short lived, as James helped him from the car. Lost in the burning pain of movement when he raised his eyes from the ground… his first reaction was surprise…_this wasn't his home_…then puzzlement, _how had James disobeyed his compulsion?_…and then despair as James said,

"I've brought you home; Betty will know what to do."

"I meant MY home" Henry groaned, chastising himself for such a basic error. His legs did not seem to want to obey him as James half dragged him towards the entrance to the house.

Henry knew he was going to have to feed, though he wasn't losing any more blood neither was he healing. He clutched his arm across his chest as James stumbled slightly and he could not contain the pained moan that escaped him.

He could hear footsteps inside the house now though the only heartbeat he could hear was James' thundering in his ears.

He struggled to hold on to the mask.

Though he didn't like the idea, he was sure that he could use his powers of persuasion to convince James to allow him to feed, but he didn't have the strength currently, to hold two humans in thrall and he knew that any threat to his beloved wife would make James impossible to control.

He just didn't know what course of action to take, as the door swung open.

Whatever Henry had expected it wasn't the silvery radiance that clung to the woman like a second skin and for a moment, he was lost in wonder. So this ancient soul, this was the beloved Betty, now he thought he understood.

Without hesitation she bent and lifted his free arm around her shoulders…

He finally registered her voice… "We need to get him inside"

They supported him until they could lay him out on the sofa in the living room. He bit his lip as they lowered him . He clung to the mask with something akin to desperation. _If they saw his true nature…if they saw….they would stake him, out of fear, or call the authorities or….._ He turned his face to the back of the sofa, but this move had the unfortunate effect of exposing the gash across his neck.

Though he faced away he could hear her voice rise …

"My God James…how is he still alive? His throat has been cut!" "He needs a doctor right now" "Get me some towels".

He heard James' returning footsteps and then she pressed the cloth against his throat. He stiffened in pain.

"Oh my God I'm so sorry" she said though the pressure at his throat did not decrease.

Henry heard her catch her breath and he realized she had discovered the wound in his chest, and felt her hand gingerly unbuttoning his shirt and laying aside the bloody flaps to expose the entry wound. "Here …fold up a towel and slide it beneath his back" she instructed. He felt James' strong arms shift him upward slightly and then lay him back down on the wadded towel. "Now hold this one over the…hole… and apply pressure. Henry groaned into the sofa back, as he felt James weight, come down on his wound.

"James what happened?" "Are you all right?" she asked as she raked her eyes over James' form.

"We were robbed 'Etty….Henry saved my life…they would have shot me…"

"You mean to tell me that this, is Henry Fitzroy?" Betty asked.

"Etty, I've never seen so much blood. They shot him and he got up again and came at them " James shook his head, "They would have killed me, if it weren't for him… I would be a dead man."

Betty's hand rested against Henry's wounded chest and he felt through that contact, her determination strengthen and her compassion flow over him.

He had lost complete control of the mask and he pressed his face to the sofa back.

"James he needs a doctor now…."

Henry's protest emerged as a rumbling growl, "No, no doctors, no hospitals!"

He felt James's larger hand at his shoulder. "She's right Henry, you need a doctor, we don't want you to die…"

Henry turned his face towards James. His eyes were raven and he whispered huskily past his fangs… "I'm not going to die."

The pressure on his chest ceased as James pulled back abruptly.

"What are you?" He breathed.

"Vampire" the silvered woman named him, her hand still at his throat.

"Vampire?" "Vampires don't exist" James protested, shaking his head in denial of the bloody evidence in front of his eyes.

"Well, whatever you decide he ...IS, dear," Betty retorted, "He's still the man who saved your life tonight and he still needs our help…"

Henry was astounded. In his many years, he had never had precisely this response when his true nature was revealed.

As was to be expected, James looked shocked after all his world view had just altered forever but Henry could sense no trace of the fear scent on them, either of them. In fact the only fear he could scent was his own.

James rose slowly to his feet. "And how exactly does one…help…a vampire 'Etty?"

Betty still kneeling on the floor beside him peered into Henry's face.

" I'm not sure James" "How does one help a vampire, Mr. Fitzroy?" she asked.

His eyes fell to the pulse point at her throat, throbbing in time to her heart's beating, beneath the shimmering silver engulfing her. His world narrowed to a single focus, that rhythm consuming his consciousness.

"Henry," she said gently, "You're going to have to tell us what to do."

Her tone brought him back. Not fear or judgment just the inquiry, tell us how we can help you?

There would be no necessity to compel them, they were freely offering aid.

He took a breath, and trusted.

"I will heal, but I've lost too much blood. He hesitated…then shifting his eyes to James, "I need to feed."

"You need my blood to heal." It was a statement, not a question.

His black eyes still on James… he nodded. "Yes"

James asked as he reached to unbutton the collar of his shirt… "Will it hurt much? When you bite me?"

No revulsion showed on either of their faces, no hesitation marred their aspect, no word had passed between them.

Henry couldn't help himself from asking. "Why aren't you afraid?"

Betty responded, "If you meant us harm Henry, then you would have already taken what you need."

"You saved James' life tonight and we will repay that debt in whatever coin is required"

Aid freely offered…a most precious gift.

Henry struggled to sit more upright and Betty moved to assist him. When he was settled, propped against the arm of the sofa he looked to James:

"Not your throat, James… but if you would be so kind as to give me your wrist," he said.

James knelt beside the sofa again and began unbuttoning the cuff of his shirt. Henry watched, avidly. Released, his hunger was now a palpable force in the room. It prickled over the skin of the humans like a static charge. Their flesh pebbled as the vestigial hair of a long gone pelt rose, in response to the presence of the predator.

Henry's lips parted, in anticipation, and he huffed in his need as James exposed the flesh of his arm.

James swallowed once and then before Henry reached out to take his arm, he brought his wrist to the vampire's lips.

Henry grasped James' forearm in one hand, turned it slightly into a more favorable position and then sank his fangs at once. He tightened his grip briefly to prevent James' instinctive withdrawal in reaction to the pain of the bite.

His eyes closed as the blood spilled into his mouth and he raised his tongue to his pallet creating the vacuum that forced the heated liquid down his throat. He swallowed reflexively, drawing without pause for perhaps forty seconds. Then he slowed and his grip loosened as the primary portion of his need was sated.

He felt James press his flesh more firmly against his fangs…offering, encouraging, and Henry took up a less urgent rhythm.

He opened his eyes and saw that Betty had moved and her hand rested protectively and possessively on James' shoulder.

Over her husband's flesh, his black eyes met hers. Her gaze held no message of warning. It held no challenge to the predator. It did shine with a steely determination and the silent statement, "Know, that I trust you with something precious to me."

James leaned his head back against Betty's thigh a beatific smile overtaking his face, as the vampire suckled at his wrist.

Henry swallowed steadily and slowly. _Just once more…just once more…_

Betty watched the vampire's fingers tighten and then he drew James' arm away from his lips. He quickly passed the tip of his tongue over their margin and he whispered as though to himself… "Enough"

He briefly returned his mouth to the bite and when he withdrew again, the punctures were no longer bleeding.

He looked up into Betty's face, and, said: "He will need to drink a great deal of fluids, and if you can get him to eat…"

James struggled to his feet. With Betty at his elbow he sank boneless into a wingback chair beside the cold fireplace. Leaning forward he passed a mostly steady hand over his face.

Henry shifted uncomfortably, at the not quite pain, of his wounds beginning to heal.

Ever the scholar…Betty stepped forward… "May I watch?"

He sat upright and shrugged out of the tattered remnants of his shirt, wincing as the move pulled at the infant musculature forming inside the hole in his back.

The wound in his throat was already just an angry red welt and Betty watched fascinated as the entry wound in his chest seemed to fill from the inside out. The torn edges of his pale skin knit back together first forming a puckered raised scar and then shrinking and smoothing until no trace of the wound remained.

Henry swiveled his head watching her as she moved around him to look at his back, where the larger exit wound was for the most part healed and she watched as the last evidence of injury disappeared.

Unselfconsciously she lifted her hand to touch the cool, unmarred skin with wondering fingertips.

"Does it hurt?" she asked him, "To heal like that?"

Startled, he responded truthfully, "Not exactly pain but a burning, pricking feeling. There is a crawling sense of movement and growth in your body over which you have no control. It's not a particularly comfortable sensation, no."

"Well, I for one, need a scotch!" James announced from the wingback where he was ensconced.

Henry regarded him regretfully, "No alcohol, for you James, it's not good following… a blood loss."

"Well then I don't suppose that you'll be allowed one either "James said, smiling sardonically.

Henry swung his legs around and started to rise."I should be going." he said.

He knew that his instincts were correct and that he could trust James and Betty not to betray him. Moreover, he found that he did not want to erase himself from their memories. They had accepted and aided him in his extremity as few others had. Henry hoped that he could retain their friendship.

"Stay" Betty and James said in unison.

"Stay at least to shower. I'll loan you some clothes. You can't go out into the night like that…" James continued.

Henry inclined his head in their direction. "Thank you" he said sincerely.

He stood in their living room, a blue eyed pale young man clutching a blood stained shirt to his chest.

"So… no scotch," James said mournfully as he got to his feet.

"Uh…no, not this evening James" Henry said.

"Can you drink anything other than blood?" Betty asked as she stooped to gather the towels.

"Yes… water of course, alcohol, most things. I just… usually don't" Henry found himself admitting.

There was a small awkward silence, into which Betty asked,

"And you don't need any more blood right now?"

He shook his head no. Then smiling inquired: "But I don't suppose you have any tea?"


	9. Chapter 9

Dusk seeped through the late afternoon sky heralding the chill of the coming night.

The bell over the door sounded with a crystalline tinkling, as Coreen stepped into the fragrant warmth of the small store.

The curly headed young woman behind the crowded old oak counter looked up and her face brightened immediately with a large smile.

"Perfect timing 'Reeny, I just finished it." Grace said as she handed Coreen a small wooden box. "It worked out just the way we thought so I'm sure your friend will be happy with it."

Coreen opened the lid of the box and looked inside. "Gracie it's perfect, you'd never know. I knew you could do it. You're amazing!"

She leaned across the counter and drew her friend into a tight embrace. "Thank you so much, are you sure you won't let me pay you for doing this?"

"No 'Reeny, I'm doing it as a favor to you, because that's what friends do. You're not the only one who gets to help others you know!" The smile on Grace's face belied the mock severity of her tone.

"I know that," Coreen said as she slipped the box into her pocket. She settled the bulky black shoulder bag she was carrying to a more comfortable position.

Grace leaned forward on her elbows on the countertop. "She looked up in to Coreen's smiling face and asked insinuatingly, "So is this friend a '_special friend'_ of yours?"

Coreen laughed. "You might say that" was all she responded.

Grace stood in a pretended huff. "Fine then…be that way." Then she cracked a grin. "When you see him tonight, give him my regards."

"I will "said Coreen The bell sounded again as she opened the shop door. "Luv' you Gracie."

"Luv' you too 'Reeny." Grace responded to the closing door.

Coreen put her hand in her pocket as she walked along in the deepening twilight. Feeling the contours of that small box she thought back to that morning.

***

It had just gone seven when Coreen stood shivering, in the cold light, outside the small church where Henry had been held captive.

On the outside, the building was calm and serene, overhung by the leafless branches of the old oaks lining the street. There was no external clue to the madness that had hidden behind that facade.

Coreen hesitated. Though she didn't share the fact with others, she could often pick up the residual energies around old buildings and it sometimes was very uncomfortable.

She remembered that Vicki had said that she had entered the church by the back stairs.

Slipping and sliding on the frosted ground, balancing carefully the large bag she carried in each hand she made her way haltingly around the building.

She was relieved to see the door was still slightly ajar. Looping the handle of one bag over her wrist and holding to the metal railing she made her way down the short flight of stairs and paused again as she gingerly pushed the door open.

The hallway smelled musty. It was floored with alternating dull red and green linoleum tiles stretching away towards the front of the building. It reminded her strongly of the Sunday school classes she had attended as a child. Except that this building was as chilled as the morning outside.

Accompanied by the rustling of her bags she made her way slowly down the hall. There was a door at the end with a small square window at eye level. She could feel the lingering sense of despair coming from that room.

Setting her bags on the floor she resolutely pushed open the door. It was dark and she groped at the side of the door until he fingers found the old, round, toggled light switch.

When she flicked the switch a single bulb lit in one corner of a large room dimly illuminating the objects that met her gaze.

Dominating the room was a large wooden X , hung with dangling chains. Coreen recognized it as a St. Andrew's cross. Her eyes narrowed as she viewed it and an angry frown marred her normally cheerful face. Here was where Henry had been restrained.

Forcing her gaze away she looked to the left amidst the tumble of old furniture and arched window frames. She recognized Henry's jacket balled and discarded amongst the refuse.

She walked across the room to retrieve it giving the cross a wide berth. Coreen picked up Henry's jacket and checking the pocket was happy to find his wallet and keys still inside. His cell phone was in the other pocket, the battery dead.

She shuddered thinking of how many times it might have rung while Henry, chained to that cross, was able to hear it but unable to reach it. She had tried his number many times while they were searching for him.

Folding his coat across her arm she returned to the door and placed it carefully in one of her bags.

Coreen straightened and then squaring her shoulders walked towards the cross. This was something she had to know.

When she was within a few feet of the cross there was the sense of him… she could feel his desperation, his pain and shame surrounding it. She reached out to the hanging length of chain. It was icy under her fingers and swung in slow circles in the air as she released it. She caught her lip between her teeth as tears sprang to the corners of her eyes.

To the side of the cross was a low table with a battered samovar on it. Plastic tubing looped away from its lid to the floor. She reached out a trembling hand to it but before she made physical contact, she withdrew. Her stomach rebelled at the roiling sense of evil and sadistic glee that surrounded the table. She turned quickly away.

As she started back to the door her foot slipped on a small object that rolled away beneath it.

Looking down she saw a small black bead, then another and then a length of cord with two groupings of beads. She knew what she was looking at and quickly knelt reaching out to the very foot of the cross to retrieve it. It was Henry's rosary. She had seen it at his wrist many times.

On her hand and knees she crawled in ever widening circles around the base of the cross until she had collected every bead that she could find, as well as the worn ebony cross that she knew hung at the end. She placed them all into the pocket of her jacket as she stood.

Looking into the shadows to her right, she noticed for the first time, the heavily draped basement windows.

The skin creped between her shoulders as she walked woodenly towards them. Coreen lifted her hand, but she could not force herself to twitch them aside.

She looked back to the cross. How long had Henry hung there, knowing that Mendoza could pull aside those curtains at any moment and leave him waiting to be exposed to the sun?

She was suddenly horrified. She rushed towards the door. _I have to get out of here…I have to get out of…_

The toe of her boot caught on a sharp corner and a dead rat, stiff and crushed in a powerful trap spun into view.

Hand to her mouth, she cried out…it was too much.

She sobbed then drew a shaking breath and forced herself to quiet. With careful steps she walked slowly to the door and retrieving her bags she flicked off the switch.

The room fell into darkness.

Only the pale rectangle of light from the doorway stretched across its floor diminishing as Coreen drew it slowly closed.

When she finally stood outside at the top of the basement stairs, she drew in lungful after lungful of clean air, blinking in the watery morning sunlight and surrounded by the white steam of her own exhalations.

She felt relieved as though she had escaped some great peril.

_Could she do it?_ She questioned herself. _Could she enter that second church?_

She looked down the street, at the hoary trunks of the oaks lining the edges of the road, and then up at the bare branches that were interlaced above. In summer that cold grey street would be a green shaded oasis.

She looked to her feet. Kicking lightly at a crack in the pavement with the toe of her boot she examined the strength of her resolve. _Could she do it?_

Her black hair swung in an arc, as she turned.

Grasping the bag handles she started off down the street at a fast walk intent on covering those few blocks as quickly as possible.

By the time she approached the abandoned church, she was breathing heavily and she held one elbow tight over a stitch in her side.

The sun had brightened as she had walked and the opaque white frost was melting back to the edges of the sidewalk leaving glistening moisture along its center. The world was thawing slightly as the sun claimed a firmer hold on the sky. The air held the slightest trace of the verdant scent of spring.

Vicki had told her where she and Mike had entered and as before the basement door was unlocked, though pulled closed.

As she stepped carefully through the refuse collected up against the door a single crow launched into the air. She had disturbed in it explorations and flapped heavily to the churches eaves.

A short hallway connected to a room whose door stood thrown back against the wall. The air was heavy and thick with emotions. Coreen could feel their echoes overflowing that chamber. Her knuckles whitened as she clenched the handles of the bags and by force of will alone she shuffled forward until she stood outlined in the door.

No darkness here for the room was illuminated by bars of sunlight cutting across the floor. Shafts of speckled sunlight drew her attention to the windows where panels of heavy fabric hung askew or lay puddled below.

Lowering her bags to the ground, her kohl lined eyes travelled to the center of the room.

Burnt padlocks hung on blackened cuffs. They were suspended on soot covered chains that stretched away to the ceiling.

Below them the empty hollow eyes of a fragment of skull stared from where it was enthroned on a small pile of ash. All was bordered by a blackened circle of flooring.

Her darkened lips opened to a soundless "Oh" and she brought up her hands. She tented her fingers in an attitude of prayer over her face. She breathed in once through her mouth and exhaled in a long sigh.

Terror, despair and regret; they vibrated all around her. She tasted the ashy oiliness on the air as it passed across her lips.

"_You can do this_" her internal voice shouted at her. "_You can! After what he has endured and still must endure, you can do this thing for him."_

Keeping her eyes focused on that pile of ash she reached into the bag at her feet and withdrew a large gold colored tin. It was cold under her fingers.

****

"_Are you going to eat all of those yourself?" Vicki had asked her as she leaned over Correen's desk._

"_No, you and whoever else comes along are going to help me" Coreen had replied to Vicki as she removed the cellophane sealing the largest tin of Christmas cookies she had ever seen._

_As she pried open the lid of the tin, the delicious aroma of chocolate had wafted out, and Vicki's hand had shot in, fetching back a small stack of the biscuits. _

_She hoisted her coffee mug in a mock salute to Coreen… "Thanks, Tiny Tim… these are my favorite," and then had disappeared into the recesses of her office._

_***_

Holding the tin to her chest, she felt for the small dust pan and brush she had brought from her kitchen and then stood upright.

It had all seemed so simple a few hours ago in her tiny apartment as she made her preparations. Now it seemed like the hardest thing in the world.

She crossed the floor and knelt inside that blackened ring and placed the dust pan and brush beside her on the floor. She pried the lid off the tin and the lingering scent of chocolate rose to her face.

Laying aside the lid, she picked up the brush and dust pan.

She could hear the croak of the crow through the window, and then a muffled chorus of caws as others of his kind winged to join him.

"I'm sorry Delphine; I'm sorry…" she whispered as she carefully maneuvered the bone fragments into the tin. "I'm sorry it isn't grander."

She swept up all of the ashes she could, burying the bone fragments in the tin beneath them. Though she had never met Delphine, her tears splashed in small wet circles in the ashes as she worked. Finally she replaced the lid tightly on the tin.

Rising she walked slowly back to the door. She carefully placed the tin and her dust pan and brush side by side in the bag. Picking the bags up she walked slowly away, She never looked back.

As she exited the door of the church, a raucous croak brought her head around. She had time to register the shining black eyes and the gloss of ebony feathers as the black wings extended and the bird launched itself upwards from the ground.

She felt the whoosh of air as the wings pumped and the crow passed by her shoulder. Her bags rattled as Coreen twisted her torso back to avoid collision.

As she watched… with every feather spread wide the bird banked in a rising turn.

At some hidden signal, dozens of black bodies swooped and tumbled from the branches overhead.

Wheeling and calling to each other they disappeared from her view over the pitch of the church roof.

They were trailed by their music in the air.

***

Night had fallen by the time Coreen reached her bus stop.

The air was cold and she gazed off down the road searching for the familiar outline of the approaching bus. She rocked back and forth heel to toe as she waited. A thin dark clad 'Goth' girl with a bulky black bag slung over her shoulder.

Coreen's hand tightened around the box in her pocket.


	10. Chapter 10

Henry balanced the tea tray easily as Betty went before him into the living room. He lowered it gently to the table top while Betty settled herself in the wing back with a sigh.

He could sense that she was tired and he questioned her.

"Betty, have you had any sleep at all, perhaps you should…"

"Oh Henry, don't worry about me, I had at least seven hours of sleep and that's more than I usually take. It's one of the advantages, of my advancing age." she smiled.

"I made a few calls early this morning to rearrange my lecture schedule, so I would have the time to spend with you."

Henry cocked his head to one side, saying "I've been taking care of myself for a very long time Betty."

"I know that dear, so it should be a refreshing change for you to indulge me." She responded.

Something of the bleakness in his black gaze softened, "It would be my honor." he said.

Henry was well aware of how gently he had been manipulated. But then Betty had always had the uncanny ability to set him at ease in a way that few humans could.

He seated himself in a second chair across from her. He felt a little anxious. He waited for the inquiry he feared would come.

She shimmered, clad in the silvery radiance of her aura as she leaned forward to the table and poured two steaming cups of tea.

"Black, as always?" She asked as she handed one off to him.

He leaned back into the chair, savoring the fragrance "As always," he murmured.

Henry watched over the rim of the cup as she stirred cream into her tea and he wished for his sketch book as he often did when in her company. He loved to capture her.

He had drawn and painted her many times over the years. In fact he supposed that his private collection could form a chronology of the passage of her life. The same silver gilded face looked out from so many of those secret canvases.

He sipped the streaming liquid carefully; drinking with his fangs extended was always a bit chancy. He had long ago accepted to his inability to discern tea's flavor but he enjoyed it anyways, if for nothing more that the sense of ritual it represented. He enjoyed the welcome warmth that it spread through his frame.

"You're very quiet Henry." Betty said.

He ignored the opening she provided. He could not speak, not yet not when all he wanted to do was hold the memories at bay. He turned to glance to the window at the lights that flashed by from below.

She retreated. _Perhaps it was too soon. That was alright…she could wait for as long as he needed._

She chuckled softly drawing his dark gaze back to her and he raises an eyebrow in inquiry.

"I was just thinking about that first night that we knew what you are" She said easily. "Do you remember sitting here with James, after you had denied him his scotch?"

Henry's mind flew back through the intervening years and he grinned as the image of James sitting across from him sprang to mind.

"He sat across from me trying very hard not to stare and shaking his head. He was muttering over and over under his breath… "Vampire, I can't believe I'm taking tea with a vampire."

"I don't believe he knew that I could hear him."

"I'm sure he didn't" Betty smiled. "He would have been mortified, to have done anything to discomfort you. I on the other hand, if memory serves questioned you unmercifully."

"Well… You were curious and frankly I suppose that I needed to confide in someone…" he paused, marveling at how economically she had had him bring himself to the very place he didn't want to go.

Henry looked her directly in the eye, shaking his head slightly in negation.

"I can't Betty. It's too new…not yet." He said

She nodded her acceptance, and sat back bringing the cup to her lips.

As though his name had summoned him from remembrance the veil shifted and Henry felt James' presence once more.

If Betty registered it, she gave no sign.

Henry settled into the sofa drawing up one leg and looping his arm around it. He focused his dark eyes on the cooling liquid in the cup.

A comfortable silence settled on the room.


	11. Chapter 11

She wobbled slightly then catching her balance, continued her pacing. _She hated this shit_!

The alcohol in her blood stream fueled the burn of her anger. The early evening dimness did nothing for her humor as he vision was reduced to a blurred impression of passing headlights at just a few feet distant.

_When the hell had her life become so complicated? Wait… she was pretty sure it had something to do with a certain undead 'Grrraphic novelist'!_

"Damn it Henry!" she cursed aloud, and her voice cracked as she spoke his name.

She tightened her lips and resumed her unsteady pacing on the sidewalk a few doors down from Betty Sagara's home.

She fully intended to confront Henry. _What the hell did he think he was doing, taking off like that? Didn't he know how worried she was? Yeah OK…he'd had a rough time with Mendoza… damn that Mike…but really…he was almost 500 years old, and after having a little Mike flavored 'Scooby snack', well he'd been all good to go right?_

_Fucking Mendoza…why couldn't she forget the feeling of turning that key in the device embedded in Henry's chest_.

She swallowed and recalled it… the slight resistance to the keys movement. She couldn't forget the way that Henry had pressed his chest into her hand, his black eyes trusting.

_Fuck._.. She rubbed the palms of her hands on the denim encasing her thighs, as though to remove the memory of the sensation.

And then he had taken off, disappearing into the night leaving her to clean up the mess of getting Mike home and cared for, and then getting herself back to the office.

_Right and where did he go…. to Betty Sagara_.

She couldn't help but recall the confidence of Betty's voice, when she called to tell Vicky that Henry had gone to her. Betty was so confident that she could help him, so confident that she could give him what he needed.

_Well maybe she can,_ thought Vicky morosely…_I sure as hell can't!_

****

_She had awakened in the late afternoon, soaked in sweat and shivering in the aftermath of the most vivid nightmares she could ever remember experiencing. She had fought her way out of the sheets and headed straight to her kitchen. _

_There she had "breakfasted" on a tumbler of whiskey, and then another. She relished the burn of the liquid, though it failed to thaw the icy fear at her core._

_Fear was something that Vicki could not conscience in herself. Its presence made her angry. _

_Anger she understood. Anger she could use… and use it she had. _

_She used it against herself._

_How could she have misread Mike so completely? She had trusted him, and had convinced Henry to trust him, on her recommendation. Now Henry was the one who had been made to pay the price for her error in judgment. _

_Then she had used her anger against Mike. _

_How dare he betray her trust?_

_Who was he in truth, she thought? As his partner on the force she had trusted her life to him. As her lover she had allowed him as close as anyone had ever been. _

_How could he have believed Mendoza's lies? _

_How could he have attacked Henry based on unsubstantiated accusation? _

_How could he believe that she couldn't take care of herself._

_She knew he was obsessed with the fact that Henry was a vampire, but she would never have believed it could have clouded his judgment to that extent._

_Judgment she had laughed… now there was a fine term. Judgment implied that you knew the rules to judge by. Judgment implied that you understood the landscape of the reality you were traversing. First the RP and then Henry had changed all that for her. There was nothing she could do about the RP. But Henry…_

_And then she had used her anger mercilessly against Henry. _

_She had accepted him as the human man he presented to the world. Sure she knew he was a vampire, she knew he drank blood to survive. But that part of him was separate from the Henry that she had allowed close. That part was to be controlled. It was to be used to help her solve cases, to defeat demons and to confront that bitch Christina. _

_Henry, he was supposed to guard her back in the nightmare world, she had followed him into._

_He was supposed to guard her back in a place where she didn't know the rules._

_That feral beast chained inside of him didn't apply to her. She never thought she would see those dark eyes turned in avarice to her throat. She never thought that she would see the beast emerge triumphant, stalking her for its survival._

_She had heard again Mendoza's voice. "I have revealed his true nature…. Now do you see?"_

_Henry had abandoned her as surely as any other man in her life. He had become something other than the Henry she knew._

_She had begged, Shehad called his name over and over._

_The blank darkness in his eyes when she had finally convinced him to release Mike, like blood on his lips, had chilled her. _

_It was a stranger who had answered her summons._

_Her Henry had left her as had her father to his girlfriends. He had left her just as had Mike from the role of lover and partner. Henry had betrayed her trust as surely as had Mike._

_It was that blank eyed stranger, that had driven her to retrieve the Illumination Del Sol from the floor of that church. Even now it sat on the table in front of her._

_When she had emerged from the church he was already gone, off to Betty Sagara for the comfort that Vicki couldn't provide him._

_She poured a third tumbler of whiskey, the liquid in her glass as golden as the face which gazed up at her from within the eight pointed star. _

_She sipped the drink rolling it in her mouth then swallowed. Extending her finger she tapped the golden face, pondering…_

_***_

Now here she was pacing up and down on an icy sidewalk outside of Betty Sagara's house.

She knew was more than a little drunk. Her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail that whipped about her face in the breeze. Vicki hunched her shoulders against the chill. She jammed her hands into the pockets of her leather jacket. Her right hand fingered the Illumination Del Sol resting there.

"Fuck Mendoza" she muttered.

_I just want to know that he's alright, she said to herself_. Then with the morose guilt of the drunk…_I just want to apologize_.

_It's that bastard Mike's fault_.

Then she giggled. _Oh wait…it was His Bloodsucking Royal Highness who was the bastard… "Fitz…Roi."_

She shook her head, trying to suspend the haze…

_I'll just knock on the door, he's probably off having a_ …an indelicate snort escaped her…'_bite' somewhere anyways!_


	12. Chapter 12

"…and I can't believe that he finally let it go." Betty chuckled…her shoulders vibrating.

"Well…he was nothing if he wasn't… tenacious…" Henry's smile faded, a spasm passing quickly over his features.

"Henry?" Betty inquired.

He only shook his head. Then he lifted his chin, his head turning to the door.

"Vicki!" he said softly. He continued more loudly… "I believe we are about to have a visitor Betty"

There was an audible curse from outside the door and then a loud pounding as Vicki had apparently eschewed the use of the ornate brass knocker.

"I'll get it" Betty said as she rose from the chair.

Henry extended his senses finding a heartbeat that was achingly familiar. The scent of alcohol underscored Vicki's as Betty opened the door to reveal Vicki in the doorway just as she had raised her fist to pound again.

"Doctor Sagara…Betty, is Henry… home?" Vicki said as she leaned against the door frame.

Henry's heart contracted at the swirling emotions that he could sense from Vicki. Fear and anger tinged the air.

"Victoria, won't you come in." Betty stepped back from the door indicating that they should go to the living room.

"Thanks" she said shortly as she stepped into the entry way.

Henry rose from his seat as she came into view… his older sensibilities still held sway. It was as he remembered her aura usually so golden and fiery was drawn tight about her, dull and tarnished by her fear. Rage roiled beneath the surface of her aura. The predator in him roused, where was the threat?

Vicki visibly stiffened, when she registered his dark eyes and emergent fangs.

"Hey Henry, what's with the Prince of Darkness routine? Vicki quipped.

He started towards her, the fear scent intensified and she thrust her hands into her jacket pockets. Henry slowed when he was still half the room away, aware of the alarming increase in her heart rate. He held his hands out to the sides of his body. "Vicki what's wrong?"

Vicki walked carefully to the window, a move which put the bulk of the sofa between Henry and her.

Betty lifted the tea tray from the table… "I'm just going to clear these things away," she said quietly as she headed towards the kitchen.

"Nothing's wrong," Vicki hedged, as she stood staring out the window. "I just wanted to see you… to make sure you were alright. You disappeared so quickly…last night…" her voice trailed off. Her body language screamed the exact opposite of her words. Henry didn't need his heightened senses to know that 'Nothing's wrong' didn't even begin to cover it.

He couldn't do this… He didn't want to do this now. He wasn't ready… he needed more time.

For her sake he tried, "Vicki last night I needed some time….I just need time…

She whirled towards him hands buried in her pockets…

He was close, so close that dark eyed stranger… was this her Henry? Try as she might she couldn't contain her fear, she had been so afraid that she had lost him to Mendoza and then in that church basement she thought she had lost him to the vampire and now, now she feared she had lost him to….

Henry felt her panic; it beat against him in waves.

"No!" She cried… "You left me… you left me there with Mike bleeding from the neck where you tried to drain him. You left me so that you could… fucking run home to…" she indicated the door where Betty had disappeared with a toss of her head… "Mommy"

Even as the words left her mouth she was wondered if her conscious and subconscious brain were totally disconnected. Where in hell had THAT come from?

In an instant Henry had her by the shoulders. His fangs were bared. He angled his head to the side and his breath chilled the line of her jaw as he all but hissed into her ear.

"How dare you? Betty is my oldest and dearest friend. Yes… I need her, and yes she is here for me. You will not cheapen that with your sarcasm."

He felt Betty tug at their bond… a gentle warning…. "Henry?"

Vicky was afraid… and that drove her to fury. Her own beast roared to life. Soaked in alcohol it lashed out, believing itself invincible.

"What are you going to do Henry?" Vicki thrust out her chin, "You gonna bite me?" Her eyes narrowed as she baited him. Irrationally angry and jealous, instead of drawing back she pushed herself forward bumping against his chest.

She was toe to toe with the predator, challenging. "You gonna bite me? Go ahead; you're really good at that." In her anger she recklessly tossed her head to one side flaunting the length of her throat, even as her heart began to race, hammering in her chest. Her hand clutched tight the golden device in her pocket.

The growl began as a vibration low in his belly. As it increased in volume, it increased in pitch until it was an unearthly urgent whine. There was nothing human about it. He wanted her; he wanted her to understand…. He was balanced on a knife's edge.

Mendoza's voice floated through his mind. _"Behold the beast, now do you see?"_

Abruptly he released her shoulders, drawing his arms straight away.

She staggered a little as he withdrew.

She drove him to distraction, he loved her, he loved her… and … she was right to fear him. He had warned her he wasn't human, though in this moment, for her… for her he wished he was. She feared him. It was as a knife to the heart. He could only retreat…

Henry spread his arms wide, performing a shallow courtly bow.

His eyes were impassive as he said. "You came to see me, and now you have. Is there something more?"

She turned on her heel and stalked to the door. When she was almost there she suddenly halted, raised her shoulders and then lowered them exhaling loudly. Then she turned to face him her hands balled at her sides.

Her aura blazed about her golden and fiery, magnificent. Henry's heart yearned towards her.

He cocked his head to one side braced for whatever scathing comment she was about to deliver.

What she said… took him down at the knees.

"I wanted you to know that, Mike and I…we saw Delphine" she said evenly.

He staggered sideways then catching himself he said, "Mendoza … he told me… that he killed her"

Vicki nodded and said very softly,

"He did. We found her in chains a few minutes before he had rigged the curtains to fall and let the sunrise in. We didn't know and then it was too late, there was nothing we could do."

Henry's lips moved of their own accord, whispering a prayer for the repose of the dead.

"Réquiem ætérnam dona ei Dómine; et lux perpétua lúceat ei. Requiéscat in pace. Amen." *

He raised the cross at his neck to his lips.

Betty came quickly to his elbow.

"Henry," she urged her voice low and soothing, "come and sit down. "

To Vicki she said, "Victoria won't you please let us know the details of what happened."

Betty guided Henry to a seat on the sofa and perched there beside him. She captured one of his hands in both of hers and held it in her lap.

There was bald horror on Henry's face when he turned to Betty and whispered in anguish, "He gave her to the sun. Delphine… my Delphie', he tortured her, starved her and forced a confession from her. Then… he gave her to the sun."

Vicki had sunk into the wingback chair. Henry turned back to her and tears shone in his black eyes though they did not overflow.

"Tell me." he said.

She could not maintain her eye contact with him. Lowering he gaze Vicki cleared her throat. She stared into the middle distance.

She began to speak, haltingly.

"I needed to find you…I thought that Mendoza would…" She gathered her fragmented wits and tried again.

"Mike and I… we were looking for you, we had a lead to a church… where Mendoza had taken a hooker."

Henry's visage evidenced no response to this.

"She said that Mendoza had taken her there and that a woman chained to the ceiling had tried to bite her"

Henry stirred in his seat but didn't interrupt Vicki's narrative.

"It was almost dawn. We broke down the door, and in a basement room we found Delphine hanging in chains. Mike thought she was dead when he couldn't feel her pulse, then she suddenly spoke."

Henry was silent. It was Betty who breathed the question, "What did she say?"

"She begged us to feed her…"

Henry's covered his face with his free hand, as Betty squeezed his other.

"He starved her" he whispered, "She went to the sun… starved!"

"I gave her some of my blood" Vicki said quietly.

"You allowed her to feed?" The hope in Henry's voice cut at Betty's heart. Released from the hold of his territorial instincts…he sought comfort for his childe even in death.

Vicki spoke in a rush, as she remembered… "Mike didn't want me to… but I needed her to tell me what she knew. So I sliced my palm." She turned her bandaged palm upright in her lap, "I let some of my blood run into her mouth. She was asking for more but I told her no… not until she answered my questions."

Betty felt his body tense at her side.

Henry's gaze was penetrating now as frowning he focused on Vicki.

Vicki carried on lost in her memory of the events.

"I asked her where Mendoza was …she said he was …gone. I asked her where you were. She was pretty weak and all she would do was repeat your name and say forgive me."

"Then suddenly the curtains fell from the windows and the sunrise flooded the room."

Vicki fell silent. Looking inwards, she saw again the flames and heard Delphine's screams.

Henry was on his feet towering over her. His voice rose as he asked

"You… You withheld your blood… when you knew… you knew she was starving?"

Vicki started to rise from the chair as Henry continued,

"You gave her a taste of what she needed… to torment her into answering your questions."

Vicki shook her head in negation, "It wasn't like that… I needed to find you…I thought she might know…"

"She had been kidnapped, tortured and starved, Vicki…. She needed your help and instead, you used her."

Revulsion was written loud on Henry's face.

Vicki stuck out her chin… "I told you… I needed the information" she said stubbornly."

"And she needed your blood, Vicki"

"It's… MY… fucking… blood, Henry!!!" she shouted into his face. "You have no right…."

"Tell me, Vicki… if Delphie had been a human woman dying of thirst and hanging in shackles would you have left her hanging? Would you have wet her parched lips with water telling her she could drink… once she had answered your questions? Or would you have shown her the compassion, you denied Delphine?"

Vicki pressed her lips together and shook her head back and forth. "It's not the same and you know it Henry. She wasn't human, she was a starving vampire and she could have killed Mike and me."

Henry shook his head sadly, "Yes," he sighed. "Delphine was a vampire, as am and I. Creatures unworthy of your compassion."

Vicki's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. She heard again Mendoza's words.

"_If you care for this creature…"_

Betty put her hand on Henry's chest… "Henry, please…" she begged.

"I didn't mean it like that Henry"… Vicki sputtered.

Henrys shoulders sagged. He was unable to fuel the heat of his anger in his grief. He turned away from Betty and went to stand at the window…gazing down onto the cars passing on the street.

"It doesn't matter Vicki," he said hollowly, his eyes never leaving the glass. "You just might be right."

Betty's heart had ached to go to him but she held her peace. She felt a shift in the pattern. This was not hers; she had to let it be.

Henry stood forlornly at the window. His arms were crossed in front of his body protectively; his shoulders were slumped in defeat.

Vicki's anger had drained away as quickly as had Henry's. She felt hollow and cold as the anger that had warmed her fled. She was losing him, she could feel it. She could feel his withdrawal. She was losing him… Before Vicki could talk herself out of it she had risen and crossed the room to him.

Henry stiffened as she put her arms around him. She pressed herself to his back. Vicki laid her head against him and whispered, whether to him or to herself she was not sure.

"Don't go… stay with me."She fought clear of her fear and willed herself to continue. "I'm not afraid of you Henry."

And then said softer still… "I am afraid that I will lose you. I'm afraid I'm not good enough, not strong enough. I'm afraid that I won't be able to hold you."

"When I saw Mendoza drag you away, I thought…I thought…" She swallowed thickly, was silent for a moment and then forged doggedly ahead.

"When I found you …like that…like this …I just don't know if I can be what you need."

"I'm so afraid Henry. I'm afraid to lose you…to blindness, to old age, to another woman…. I don't think that I'm brave enough to face that."

"My only defense against that threat of pain is to hold you distant. I am afraid to love you."

"But then when I thought it was too late… when I thought Mendoza had… then the pain was unbearable. Henry I am so afraid to lose you. "I'm sorry Henry…I'm so sorry."

Henry turned in her arms to face her. He smiled sadly at her.

"Vicki, you are afraid that I will leave you. I promise you I will never leave you. I could never leave you. You are part of me."

"But understand me clearly Vicki. I am vampire. I will not age and I will not die."

"You fear what _you think_ _might_ happen, Vicki, and you resist love out of fear."

"I fear what _I know will_ happen." He continued… "You will leave me Vicky, you will go and I must stay. I may wish it were otherwise, but it is not. I can cleave to you but in the end all of my love will not be enough to keep you and you will die."

He gathered her to him, bending to kiss her lips tenderly. His Vicki…

"I fear the pain that _I know_ is to come." He said with a sigh.

"So what would you have me do Vicki?" "Would you have me take the coward's way and sacrifice love for the avoidance of pain?" Henry shook his head. "That, I cannot do, for that is death and I choose to live."

She looked into the vampires face as his words resonated in her heart.

"No one ever said I was a coward Henry." She said…"But I will need time, will you wait for me?"

"I have nothing but time…Vicki"

* "Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord; and let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. Amen."


	13. Chapter 13

Betty sat quietly in the chair across from Henry pretending to read her book.

It had been almost an hour since Vicki Nelson had left.

***

_Betty had left them to their conversation, retreating to her study. She had only returned when she heard the front door close._

_Henry had been calm and quiet._

"_I love her Betty" he had said simply._

"_Henry dear," she had replied. "Any fool could see that"_

***

She had been watching Henry surreptitiously as she read the same paragraph over and over again.

Though he had only risen perhaps three hours earlier uncharacteristically he had laid himself out on the sofa.

After a few desultory attempts, the conversation had faded away.

He now lay with one arm thrown up over his eyes, if Betty didn't know better she would have thought him asleep.

The silence was not uncomfortable and Betty persevered.

Finally with a gusting sigh he lowered his arm.

"Betty" he said "you haven't turned the page for almost forty minutes."

Betty smiled slightly, "Yes well… I've just been sitting here thinking."

"How odd" replied Henry, "I've been laying here trying diligently not to think. Frankly, I am not meeting with much success."

"It can be very hard to keep some thoughts at bay" Betty offered.

"That it can." Henry agreed.

She tried a different tact. "Will you need to go out to feed this evening?"

Henry shook his head no where it lay propped against the cushion.

"No I thought I would stay in tonight. I need to try my hand at alienating the only present friend that I have. That way I will have made a clean sweep of the field."

His lips lifted in an apologetic smile exposing the tips of his fangs.

"You could try…" Betty smiled in reply.

Henry swung his legs to the floor and sat up, resting his elbow on his thigh.

"Then perhaps we should..."

Henry paused as he heard a very distinctive heartbeat.

"Betty, I believe that Coreen Fennel is coming up your front walk."

_Henry wondered if he had the energy to devote to what was, in his opinion, Correen's abnormally cheerful personality_.

He sank back in the sofa seat and crossed his arms over his chest in what could only be described as a defensive stance. Betty could read the trepidation in his face from where she sat.

"Don't bother yourself… Henry" she said rising "I'll get it."

There was a timid knock .

When Betty opened the door Coreen stood at the top of her steps. Clad in her usual black she had a large cloth bag over her shoulder. Her dark lined eyes looked shadowed and wary. She showed none of her usual bubbly demeanor.

"Doctor Sagara, I'm sorry to bother you" she began, "I was wondering…is Henry still here?"

"Why yes he is." Betty raised her eyebrows as she glanced in Henry's direction, "Won't you come in dear, please."

"Thank you Doctor," Coreen replied.

Then she said, "I have something….for Henry."

Betty's head turned at his gasp.

"Henry?" she asked concerned. She saw that he had one hand spread flat over his heart and his face wore a pained expression.

He shook his head slightly… "I was just remembering the last time I heard that particular phrase."

Coreen came through the door and, following Betty's gaze, turned towards the living room.

Henry started. He looked at Betty and Coreen standing side by side. Correen's aura was pale green as always, yet it was netted all around with a filigree of the same silver as Betty's.

As he stood, he was struck by how incongruous the Goth attire and hair looked shrouded by that living radiance. She had the same nourishing glow of life that enveloped Betty.

Coreen had set the bag down carefully just inside the door. When she caught sight of Henry… she ran straight to his arms with a choked sob.

Henry wrapped his arms tight around her thin shaking frame. He hugged her to him. Her irregular heartbeat resonated in his chest. His lips descended through the energy skimming her form and he placed a gentle kiss on her black hair.

"Shhhh…" He echoed Betty's reassurances from the night before. "Shhhh, hush it's alright now Coreen"

Henry raised his eyes to Betty's questioningly… she smiled slightly acknowledging the silent question with a small nod. Henry's eyes widened at her agreement. _Betty knew that Coreen was one such as her. How had he not seen it?_

He watched as James' immaterial form appeared at Betty's elbow.

Henry tightened his embrace slightly once more and then set Coreen back away so that he could look into her tearstained face.

"It's alright Coreen. I'll be alright." He reassured her.

"Henry, I'm so sorry… None of this would have happened if I hadn't told Mike where you were… It's all my fault… Please don't hate me. You have every right to hate me, I know…. and I wouldn't blame you if you do … Vicki told me what that crazy priest did to you… how did you stand it? …I can't believe that Mike could do that to us… I should never have trusted him… it's all my fault…"

Her aura tightened and dulled as she rambled and Henry sensed her weariness and pain. He couldn't bear to watch. He pulled her to him again. Her thin arms came around him.

"Shhhh, Shhhh." He soothed. His black eyes looked to Betty again. She indicated with a gesture that he should seat Coreen on the couch.

Henry broke away from her, guiding her to the couch and pulling her to a seat beside him.

Betty came and sat at Coreen's other side. She put her arm around Coreen's shoulders patting her arm. Coreen looked into Betty's face, her lower lip trembling and black mascara running on her cheeks.

"It's not fair," Coreen shook her head sadly. "It's just not fair." "No one has the right to do that to someone else!"

Betty squeezed Coreen's shoulders one armed, and nodded her agreement. "Your right Coreen" she agreed sadly. "It's not fair."

Then Betty looked to Henry and in a more matter of fact tone said.

"Henry, it seems that Coreen is laboring under the misconception that you somehow hold her responsible for the… events of the last few days."

"Coreen" Henry spoke her name and when she turned her face to him he captured her gaze with his own. "I want you to know that the only person responsible for" he paused and then continued, "responsible for what happened, is already dead. Mendoza used everyone and everything at his disposal to achieve his…own ends."

"But" Coreen began "If I hadn't …"

"If you hadn't of gone to Betty and helped her work out what that… what that device was… well, things could have gone much worse for me. I owe you my life Coreen."

"Yes…but if I hadn't…"

"Ttssk," Henry exhaled in frustration. "Coreen please… don't make me have to compel you to believe me!"

Coreen lowered her head and looked at her hands. She inhaled and then exhaled a long shaky breath.

Then she looked to Henry again.

"I have something for you." she said slowly.

Henry watched as she rose and went to the black bag at the door. With her back to him, she pulled what appeared to be his coat from the bag. She laid it softly on the floor beside her.

Crouched with her back still turned she said quietly "I went to the church, I found your things…your coat and wallet, keys and phone"

Henry could hear the anguish underlying her matter of fact words. He hated the image that sprang to his mind of her venturing into that dark place. The place where Mendoza had…

He drew a breath to speak, but she had risen and turned around now, holding a large gold toned tin to her chest.

"And then I went to the other church…" she swallowed heavily before she continued. Her eyes were bright with tears.

She crossed the room in a few steps and halted in front of Henry. She held the tin close to her chest.

The stillness that descended on the room was profound. Henry's black eyes rose slowly from the tin and found Coreen's.

"What have you done?" he whispered.

Betty's words came out as a long sweet sigh…"Oh child, what have you done?"

Coreen's voice waivered as she said, "It wasn't fair; it wasn't fair what he did. I couldn't leave her there…so I had to bring her to you."

She held the tin out to him. "I'm sorry Henry, I'm sorry it isn't grander."

Henry lifted the tin from her hands. He laid it in his lap, resting a disbelieving hand on its lid.

"Delphine…" he whispered.

His eyes rose to Coreen again as his tears flowed unchecked. "There is nothing grander than a thing done with love." he told her.

Coreen sat back between Henry and Betty on the couch.

"She'll be safe with you Henry." He nodded his head as he struggled to regain control.

"Thank you Coreen" he said simply.

Henry marveled at how he had been blind to her before. He extended his senses out to her. There was no fear in her, he quested more carefully. There was an insistent bubbling joy about her. Her spirit was outward focused and open. It drank in the world around her.

He knew her for a sensitive. Her spirit finely tuned to that which inhabited the air around him. There was no fear. Yet she was weary, as though she had endured some great trial, which he could not discern. He felt in her some enduring anguish as a reflection of his own.

It was Betty who spoke. "It must have been very difficult for you, child, as sensitive as you are… to brave those dark places."

Coreen tensed and then admitted. "I didn't think that anyone knew"

"You know Coreen, I think that perhaps you and I might need to become better acquainted" Betty said

"That would be way cool!" she responded a glimmer of her enthusiasm reborn.

"Well then…" Betty said as she started to rise.

"Oh there is one more thing" Coreen said. She drew a small wooden box from her pocket and handed it to Henry.

"A present?" Henry inquired. His eyebrow raised as he took the box.

"Not exactly" Coreen said. "I couldn't find them all so we had to use knots for the 'Our Fathers' but there were enough for 5 decades…Henry?

Henry held the box open on his palm. He was staring down into it, a perplexed look on his face.

"How did you… how did you….do this? He asked.

Coreen reached past him and lifted the rosary from the box, concerned that somehow she had offended him.

"If you don't like what Gracie did…" She began to say….Henry's hand came up and enclosed her smaller one…the beads of the rosary dangling below their joined hands. His dark eyes captured hers.

_He allowed the proffered bond to quicken… his senses raced along that cord until he was immersed in a warm tenderness that cloaked an immense reserve of determination. Joy bubbled all around him._

_He slipped into her memory and saw… he saw… the St. Andrews cross looming above her as she scrambled on hands and knees pursuing those beads. She searched for them while his despair and pain echoed all around her. He saw her with Gracie, their heads bent together over a table as they counted out the beads …planning. He heard the tinkling of the bell on the shop door as it closed behind her, felt the smooth contours of the box as she held it in her pocket…._

_He withdrew, catching his breath in wonder. He looked into her face. There was no fear… even now._

Her eyes were wide in recognition. She looked straight into him. She looked past the predator. She looked past his 480 years as a vampire and unerringly… touched her finger to his soul.

_She welcomed him…she had welcomed him, he could feel it now, him… as he was… without fear_.

"So… it's alright?" she offered tentatively as he released her hand.

Henry brought the wooden cross to his lips, and then looped the rosary comfortably around his wrist.

He felt a peacefulness of spirit return. Until this moment he had not realized that his peace had been gone.

Henry met Betty's approving gaze.

"Thank you, Coreen, you have returned something to me that I feared was lost forever."

Coreen smiled brilliantly. "Cool!"


	14. Chapter 14

Ten Days Later…

Center Island Ferry Dock

Toronto Waterfront

The water slapped at the encrusted pylons of the dock. Rough textured covered with broken shells and debris above the waterline, below, they were coated in waving green algae that moved like ghost hair in the orange tinged artificial light.

The depth presented no problem for Henry's vision and he could see the sandy bottom of the lake. They will need to dredge again soon he thought.

"Henry"…he turned at Coreen's voice. He watched Vicki and Correen walk across the boardwalk from the parking area and onto the pier. Coreen a few paces ahead in her excitement and Vicky following up at a more leisurely pace.

Coreen was literally bouncing, "This is so cool…I love Center Island, my Mom used to bring me out here for Sunday picnics when I was a little kid… I remember this one playground where we used to…"

Henry smiled and held up a restraining hand…"I'm so glad you could come, Coreen," he said.

Coreen stood on her toes and kissed his cool cheek briefly. "I wanted to." She whispered.

Aloud she said, "Well when I got your invitation, I knew I needed to be here."

Vicki watched this interchange as she approached.

Henry was elegantly attired in a black suit with a dark overcoat, his collar turned up against the chill breeze that blew in off the lake. His curls rose and fell in that same breeze and as he turned to greet her his blue eyes lit from within. His smile was mischievous as he leaned close to ask…

"You don't get seasick do you Vicki?"

"You know damn well I do," she exclaimed grumpily. "And if I do mister…"

"Then I shall be honor bound to attend you. " Henry interrupted smoothly, grinning.

"Attend me, my ass!" Vicky groused.

"Wherever and whatever you wish" Henry said with a slight bow, craning his neck to stare cheekily at the aforementioned portion of Vicki's anatomy.

Vicky placed both her palms on Henry's chest and pushed him gently out of her personal space.

"Control yourself…Hank." She said smiling.

"Seriously Henry," she said indicating her black slacks and black leather bomber jacket…"Do you think this is OK?" When you said Center Island I thought that…"

"Victoria whatever you are wearing, _or not wearing_, you are always ravishing in my eyes." His smile could only be described as suggestive.

Coreen cleared he throat noisily…"You guys do know that I… can… hear… you….right."

"Betty" Henry said and he stepped forward to meet Betty as she approached across the boardwalk.

He took both her hands in his own and they sketched a kiss on each other's cheeks.

"Thank you for coming" he said as he released her.

"I wouldn't have missed this, dear." Betty said as she patted his cheek.

Vicki couldn't help but notice how he leaned slightly into her touch.

Henry looked beyond Betty's shoulder and saw Mike Cellucci approaching across the frosted grass.

Cellucci was also wearing a dark suit, overlaid with his familiar beige trench coat flapping in the onshore breeze. He carried a large bouquet of flowers on his arm.

The predator stirred uneasily as it slumbered under Henry's hand.

Mike halted warily a few feet distant. Henry's face was impassive as he watched him approach. Mike ducked his chin in a quick nod his eyes never leaving the vampire's.

"Fitzroy" Mike acknowledged.

"Constable" Henry inclined his head slightly.

"Uhhh… it's Detective, actually." Mike muttered under his breath.

Henry smiled and regally inclined his head towards Cellucci. "Your pardon?" he said.

"So…Henry said briskly, rubbing his hands together as though to warm them." The cast is all assembled.

Shall we adjourn to the Ferry?" He indicated the way with a flourish.

Vicki fell in step at Mike's side. "I'm surprised to see you here she said in a whisper."

"Not anywhere near as surprised as I was to get the invitation Vic." He replied.

Henry ascended the ramp first then offered his hand to Betty and then Coreen and the stepped down from the ramp into the ferry.

He however held his arms wide as Vicki stepped on board. He hadn't survived this long without being able to recognize danger when he saw it.

Coreen and Betty made their way to one of the bench seats that looked out to the side of the boat. Henry could follow their conversation from where he was standing.

Betty was telling Coreen about a small grimoire that she had in her collection that she thought Coreen might like to see.

Vicki and Mike stood off to one side talking about a new case that they had just taken on…a male model that had disappeared with his agent's money. There was no mistaking them as law enforcement, even if one couldn't hear their conversation.

Henry moved through the few other passengers on the ferry easily. Tourists and Torontonians alike who were taking the cold adventure of a night trip to the island just off the shore of Toronto.

They had no idea of the predator that moved among them. Henry held the mask firmly in place as he found a position for himself against the rail at the bow.

If his fellow passengers drew a little away until he was left standing alone at the rail, well it was due to no conscious effort on his part.

The trip was short across the choppy water. It was silvered in the moonlight the surface shingled with little waves. He could hear the heartbeats below the murmur of conversation behind him. The sky was clear and the stars above pulsating points of light.

Henry lifted his chin and closed his eyes. He felt the flex of the railing as Cellucci leaned his weight against it. Cellucci leaned forward on his forearms with his hands loosely clasp.

Coolly the vampire turned to regard the human with hooded eyes. Partially obscured by the crisp collar of the detective's shirt was the cleanly healed scar of his own bite. He felt the draw of Cellucci's life force. Even now Henry didn't really know how he had managed to stop himself from draining him.

He had been careful to feed before coming here and even fully sated the pounding of the man's pulse called to him.

There was an uncomfortable silence. Finally Henry spoke.

"Detective…Michael, I wanted to thank you for coming after me." It sounded stiff and stilted even to his own ears. But he had done it. He had done as his honor demanded.

Cellucci turned his face towards him. He blue eyes were open and honest. His voice was firm as he said.

Fitzroy, I think you're dangerous and I don't like it that Vicki is involved with you. That in no way excuses what I did. It was wrong to turn you over to Mendoza and I apologize.

"Hrmmff" Henry looked away briefly but when he looked back his eyes were warmer.

"I accept your apology, Detective. I can't say that I would have done any differently if I perceived someone as a threat to my Vicki" Henry said.

"Fitzroy," the detective said as he turned to walk away. "Because I feel that I owe you a favor I'm going to tell you that you had better...NEVER ...let Vicki hear you use the phrase… _my Vicki._"

Cellucci shook his head slightly as we walked back down the deck of the ferry.

Henry looked back out at the approaching island, they should be docking in a few minutes…"Soon, Delphie," he said to himself, "soon."

He felt Vicki come up alongside him at the railing. She looped her arm around his waist, and leaned her head against his shoulder.

Henry breathed in her scent on the cold air. _My Vicki…the possessiveness of his nature stretched as it awakened…mine._

"You OK?" she asked.

"Yes, I am" he responded as he turned to her. "I had Delphine's ashes interred in a private ceremony and now only this one thing remains to do."

She grew silent at the mention of Delphine's name.

He continued, "Delphine told me years ago that in summer she used to come to a specific little cove on the island here and that she would lie out on the boulder there and watch the moon. She said that she could feel the heat of the sun reflected back from that rock into the night, that even though it was dark the scent of the summer sun lingered for hours."

Henry rested his hand on hers where she held the railing. "I'm glad you're here Vicki." He said.

When the ferry docked Henry led the way along the twisting footpath. The air was chilled and the grass on either side was tipped with frost. The globes that marked the path cast circles of watery light at intervals. Darkness fell between, the landscapes a deep black silhouette against a pearlescent sky.

They walked at a leisurely pace for perhaps ten minutes. At length there were no others than themselves on the path.

Ahead they saw a garden lit by colored floodlights. Henry led them on to small stepping stone walkway off the main path.

The centerpiece of the garden was a large bolder supporting a half size bronze figure of a woman.

She reclined back on her elbows her hand spread flat against the boulder's rough surface. She was clad in a long gown that fell in folds away from one uplifted knee, to hug the contours of the stone. Her small bare feet protruded from beneath the bronze hem. Her head was cast back so that the hair fell long and cascading to the stone. Her open eyes searched the heavens. The moon passed overhead.

The prepared beds of the garden were bare, awaiting the spring to be filled with blooms. The boulder however was surrounded by a mounded ring of fresh planted low shrubs. In the light they showed as well budded out with pale yellow flowers. A smooth grassy lawn ran down to the pebbled edge of the lake.

"It's beautiful, Henry" Betty said. "I recognize your style in the statue"

"It's a portrait of Delphine that I made over forty years ago" Henry said. "I…I thought it belonged here. I thought she belonged here."

When they were all assembled in that small garden a silence gradually fell.

"Coreen" Henry said into that silence…"Will you do something for me?"

Coreen's black cape rustled softly as she approached him. Her dark eyes were curious.

Henry reached inside of his coat and removed a soft leather drawstring bag from where it had rested over his heart.

Henry placed the bag in her hand. "This contains a small amount of Delphie's ashes." he said to Coreen. "I kept them back because I wanted something of her to be in this place."

Coreen's eyes grew wide. "You want me…me to scatter them? She whispered.

_Henry nodded as he sent along their new made bond his gratitude and his admiration._ Coreen drew in a deep breath, and then nodded. She walked deeper into the garden a few paces distant from the others.

Vicki stepped to Henry's side and looped her arm through his. She pulled him closer to her in silent support. Mike Cellucci stepped to his other side and his features reflected a thoughtful and sympathetic repose. The bouquet of white stargazer lilies was held loosely in the crook of his arm.

Betty stood slightly to one side. Along their connection Henry felt as though she held him in her arms, and was willing her strength into him. He swiveled his head to meet her eyes briefly. She smiled.

Vicki watched Coreen as a blurred shape against the distant city lights across the water.

To Henry, Coreen was aglow green and silver. Clothed in black her face almost hidden in the cloud of dark hair lifted in the breeze. The pale lights of the city behind insignificant in relation to her brilliance.

Her hands moved as she loosened the drawstring of the bag. She looked over her shoulder to Henry.

_He never moved as he sent his assent to her._

She drew her arm in a wide arc across her body. The ashes flew out in a fine sparkling cloud, hanging for a moment in the air and then dissipating on the breeze.

She walked slowly back to Henry. She leaned up to kiss his cheek lightly smiling through her tears.

"Thank you." Henry whispered as she withdrew.

Mike stepped forward and laid the bouquet of lilies on the boulder at the statures elbow.

"I'm sorry he whispered.

Vicky felt Henry sigh long and soft at her side. She laid her head briefly on his shoulder.

After a few moments they started back to the path for the ferry, leaving the garden behind in the moonlight.

Betty walked along arm in arm with Henry as he guided her through the dark. Mike was on their other side. Coreen and Vicki were walking just slightly ahead.

As they walked Henry said to Mike conversationally. "I didn't expect that you would know the language of flowers detective."

"I don't "Mike replied shortly and then continued, "But I do know how to ask for what I want and the lady in the florist shop told me."

He quoted "White lilies for the innocence that has been restored to the soul of the departed. White star gazers for…sympathy"

Henry nodded. "I am familiar with their meanings."

The as they walked on Mike asked. "So… the flowering shrubs that you had planted?"

"Cinquefoil" Henry supplied the name.

"Yeah" Mike said "Any special meaning there?"

Betty replied softly from the other side, as the moon sailed overhead… "Cinquefoil…its symbolic meaning is … beloved child."


End file.
